


Seeing Color

by littlejedi



Category: Long Exposure (Webcomic)
Genre: Anal Sex, Lorraine Rockwell, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Soulmate AU, smut warning lol, there's plot too though okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-01 12:47:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 30,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11486694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlejedi/pseuds/littlejedi
Summary: For months now, Jonas has felt his soulmate's emotions radiate in his chest. He's spent countless hours daydreaming about the person who will set his world on fire.But when his world is finally set ablaze, his daydreams begin to seem more like nightmares thanks to a certain tall, foul-mouthed, big-toothed bully who's apparently been his soulmate this whole time.Soulmate AU





	1. Ablaze

**Author's Note:**

> Trying my hand at a soulmate au (with chapters! yay!), and though I may not be able to do it the justice that recent creators have, I'm excited to share it!!  
> Title from the song "Color" by Finish Ticket.

Just like any situation in life, there were positives and negatives to being born without a soulmate. The most positive being that you were born with the ability to see color, instead of having to wait until you found your ‘special someone.’ The most negative, of course, was being born without a match. The thought of that emptiness, lacking another person who exists on the same emotional wavelength as you and takes every breath solely to live for you, and vice versa, is so overwhelmingly painful it makes Jonas’ throat close up. Some nights, he stays up in his bed and tries desperately to choke back the sobs and sniffles which overwhelm him as he imagines the feeling of loneliness so profound he can’t begin to fathom it.

He doesn’t cry for himself, of course. He’s lived in a world of grayscale for as long as he can remember. He cries for Sid. It was unique, a total genetic anomaly, that a set of twins could be born in their position- one with gray eyes, waiting on the day his world would burst into life, and one with bright green, who would never know the profound attachment of a soulmate. The window of time doctors had to tell if the twins were opposites was small, since their biological and physical differences would lessen as they aged.

By 3, doctors said, Jonas and Sidney would look and function almost exactly the same, as they should have since birth. They’d gone through extensive physical and cognitive testing as toddlers, to see if they were truly opposites. It frustrated Sid to no end, watching Jonas wrinkle his freckled nose at the color test in front of him. Nervously, he’d guess which square the doctor had asked him to identify, hesitantly choosing from the page covered in squares that all seemed the same to him.

“Jojo,” Sid would whine in exasperation, “that’s brown, she asked you for pink!” He would wince and apologize, and the doctor would scribble notes onto her pad. The fundamental conclusion about the Wagner twins was, yes; one was born with a soulmate and the other was matchless. He hated how the doctors said it, spit it out as if it tasted disgusting on their tongues, _matchless_. However, it was clarified that they wouldn’t know with 100% certainty until the day of the twins’ 18th birthday if Jonas truly had a soulmate, because that was the moment when your soul orientation became solidified. 18 years of age was seen as the marker of adulthood; people with matches would begin to experience the ability to feel their soulmate’s presence. It was only until after 18 that the ability to find your match emerged as well.

In the medical world, the phenomenon of finding your soulmate is called “physio-emotional analogous companion consciousness,” but most everyone just refers to it as ‘matching.’ Though matching with strangers is most common, many people do match with someone they already know. He thinks it sounds so incredibly romantic, looking at someone you’d never paid a second thought to your entire life and in a moment experiencing them encompass your whole world. Jonas had wondered if he’d already met his match, if in some ideal twist of fate his soulmate was Carmen. But when he and Sid’s 18th birthday came and went, and he spent the next weeks staring hard at the back of Carmen’s head in history class, he gave up on the thought.

The whole situation keeps him up at night. He’s a champion at sleeping during the day and can nap just about anywhere- a desk, the bus, in class, you name it. But at night, when the world shuts down and goes quiet, when he’s alone, his thoughts are paralyzing. He loves Sidney so much. They have the same laugh, the same interests, for goodness sake they have the same face. Can they really be so fundamentally different? Can their lives have such different trajectories? That thought seemingly doesn’t bother his sister at all. In fact, he doesn’t think she’s ever even considered it. She probably thinks he’s being foolish in his pity and sadness, and she reminds him constantly that the outdated notion about people who are matchless being unable to ever create lasting friendships or fall in love is total bullshit. There are plenty of matchless people in the world who are happily living full and involved lives with abundant companions and lovers.

But it’s not that which bothers him so deeply, because he knows his sister, she’s magnetic and fun and hilarious and has never had an issue making people love her. It’s the disconnection between them. She sees and feels things that he can’t, and it drives him mad. She assures him that one day, maybe even soon, he’ll know what makes yellow different from white and how there are approximately 106 unique shades of green.

But there’s one feeling, all his own, one that simultaneously lights him up and breaks his heart, because Sid will never know it.

The feeling of presence.

Presence has a different definition to everyone with a soulmate. Scientists have tried to quantify it, linguists have tried to describe it, and artists have tried to represent it, but Jonas feels it’s far too individual to generalize. Some felt pain when their soulmates did, some had a ‘soulmark’ on their body they shared with their match. But for Jonas, it’s an aura of his soulmate’s emotion which radiates from his chest, around his heart.

So the twins are stuck, in a constant cycle of attempting to understand each other but not quite succeeding. They do try, almost constantly, to explain to each other the unique feelings they know the other can’t comprehend. Jonas likes learning about color more than he likes trying to describe his soulmate’s presence, so he incessantly prods her for information. Sid’s good at finding common ground, using things they can both feel to describe the colors of the world.

“It’s like... the feeling of taking a cold drink after being in the sun all day. Kind of like the smell of pavement after it rains, or the sound of ocean waves” she explains, holding up her favorite sweatshirt. _Navy blue_ , she had labeled the description. She holds up one of Jonas’ sweaters, explaining, “this one is more like the taste of caramel, or the smell of the woodchippings, or the sound of a violin.”

“Brown, right?”

“Light brown,” she nods, clarifying.

“What’s the difference between light brown and dark brown?” he questions with his eyebrows knit together.

“Dark brown tastes like steak, smells like smoke, and sounds like a guitar,” she reminds him patiently.

“Okay, I... think I get it,” he lies. Sid smirks at him, seeing right through his weak facade like she always does.

“I’m curious. Explain to me your favorite feeling in the world, and I’ll tell you what your favorite color is,” she says softly, coming to sit next to him on her bed and run her fingers through his curls. _Presence_ is the first word that comes to Jonas’ mind. He takes a deep breath, and racks his brain for words to describe it, but finds them all insufficient. So he settles for his second favorite.

“Kind of... feeling warm, but not physically warm. More... emotionally warm. Content, and calm, and happy. Feeling secure, but also free.” He looks at his sister with confusion as he finishes, because she has one eyebrow cocked incredulously.

“Really?” she asks, and he confirms with a nod. “Well, then I’d say your favorite color is pink.” Jonas grimaces. Sid doesn’t really like pink. She says it looks like how Laffy Taffy tastes. She’s smiling dumbly at him, and she shakes her head. “I should’ve known, Jojo. You’re too sweet and mushy for your own good.” He shoves her halfheartedly, and she shoves back with more force before she stands, walking to her closet and rehanging the garments she had taken down. He rests his chin is his hands and watches absentmindedly, his thoughts far from the room. How would he ever describe presence to her?

His soulmate’s presence is... a little unnerving. But not in a bad way, in an exciting way that makes his stomach flutter. It's hot, fiery almost, sits deep within his heart and radiates out to his limbs. It's startling, and passionate, and sometimes so energetic it feels slightly unhinged. It's odd and disquieting in the best way. What color had Sid described that made him think of that? It wasn’t yellow, yellow was warm like the sun, not warm like fire. It definitely wasn’t purple, which sounded like lullabies. The presence in his chest was sour and tangy and sharp, but always had a certain sweetness, so it definitely wasn’t pink.

“I think my favorite feeling is orange,” Jonas says in a moment of clarity, breaking the silence. Sid turns to look at him, nodding slowly.

“Hm. You could actually be right, you’ve always loved orange. Your blankie was orange, so’s your favorite hat, and almost every pair of your boxers,” she muses. He smiles contently, pride swelling in his chest. That is, until Sid snorts and he feels deflated as she rolls her eyes and exclaims, “Pink and orange! What a combination.”

The next morning, when he wakes up for school, there’s a feeling of dread deep in his chest. He startles, laying his hand over his heart and closing his eyes. It isn’t the normal kind of dread a kid feels on the first day of a new school year, it’s so much deeper. It’s anxious and even a little fearful.

He squeezes his eyes tightly as sadness overwhelms him, and he rubs soft circles over his chest and tries to think thoughts of calmness. In the past few months he’s felt profound sadness emanate from within him, and he worries about the person on the other end of the emotion. It’s an interesting and exhausting experience, feeling your soulmate’s emotions through their presence. It’s almost as if your body is responding to an emotion your mind hasn’t processed. Sometimes, Jonas’ muscles will ache with the tension of anger, or his heart will race in fear, and within an instant it’s gone before his head is even able to comprehend what’s happened. He always does the same thing, brings his hand to his heart and rubs slow circles, focuses on taking deep breaths. He doesn’t think his match can feel it necessarily, but it always has a calming effect on the presence rumbling within him.

His soulmate always does the same thing for him, too. It’s inexplicable, really, to try and determine what kind of person could possibly be his soulmate. If he were to base it solely of the emotions he experienced, this person was a total rollercoaster. One minute they’re filled with rage, and hatred, but in an instant it changes. It’s a constant pull between two extremes. Whenever Jonas becomes embarrassed or upset, it’ll switch to something entirely different. The presence will start to throb and radiate so much warmth, it makes him feel immediately safe. Jonas always thinks how remarkable it is that someone who had to endure so many negative emotions could love so hard. As he continues to rub his chest the emotion changes gradually, and it’s lighter in an instant, calmness slowly running through him. He relishes the release of his heart, it had been pounding so hard it was starting to give him a headache.

But he can’t help but notice the remaining anxious twinges that spasm in his chest every few moments.

As the minutes tick by, it’s starting to become a little overwhelming, and for the first time ever... Jonas wishes he could shut it off. As he’s brushing his teeth, a sickness washes over him. It starts in his middle and rockets outward, knocking him to his knees. He chokes on his toothpaste as he brings his quaking hands to his face, covering it hard to keep from crying out as Sid bursts through the bathroom door.

“Jojo,” she says with worry, rubbing across his tense shoulders, “what’s wrong? Are you sick? Do you need to barf?” She pushes the hair back from his forehead as he shakes his head.

“I’m fine,” he gasps out. The pain has subsided quickly, but not disappeared. It’s thrumming harshly from his stomach, not from his chest, like it never has before. It’s less sharp, but deeper. He and Sid rock back and forth quietly on the floor until he regains enough strength to open his eyes. The first thing he sees is his sister, she’s inches from him and her face is marred with concern.

“What the _hell_ was that?” she demands. He can only shake his head. He can’t begin to think of the words to describe what it was. The feeling of dread sitting in his stomach now is entirely his own, unrelated to his soulmate and their presence. He starts to chew his lower lip, distracting himself from the hum of discomfort which moves through his whole body. Something has changed. The distress doesn’t stop. His legs are shaky as he boards the bus, and his backpack feels as if it will pull his shoulders off. He’s hyper-aware of the clothes against his skin, event his soft sweater feels like it’s on fire and is causing his skin to blister and bubble underneath. When he plops down on the seat next to Sid, he feels as if he’s shattered his tailbone. She’s watching him, always, watching the pain and distress play across his face. The situation is hopeless, though, and she knows it as well as he does; Dean would never allow him to miss school. Especially not the first day. He has no choice but to bear it and hope it subsides. As Lewis pops up behind them and begins talking, it feels like his eardrums are pierced with needles. He isn’t processing any of the words, he’s so wrapped up in himself, in what could be happening to his soulmate, if the unbearable pain was affecting them too, what it meant-

“No, it’s true! Mitch _is_ back!” Lewis shouts.

Oh heck.

Oh heck, _no._

Not _today_. Of all days, why _today?_ Jonas shudders violently as he remembers the chasing, the spitballs, the hair pulling, the torment Mitch had rained down upon him as kids. It’s bad enough as it is that his bully has returned. But today, when he’s barely strong enough to stand, barely cognizant enough to open his eyes? He groans wearily and allows his head to lull back, which proves to be a mistake as his brain screams against the back of his skull.

The day is a blur.

What could _possibly_ be wrong? The pain, the enrapturing and overbearing pain, courses through him all day. He’s being pulled in so many different directions; so many strange emotions are flying through him, each one new and foreign and nameless. Now, they’re not emanating from his chest at all. They’re pricking his arms, turning his stomach, and rattling in his head. When he finally makes it to lunch, he’s a haggard mess. Jonas is barely aware of the people sitting next to him, his friends are making idle conversation and politely, or uncomfortably, ignoring the fact that he looks like an absolute disaster. His eyes feel hollow and red, he knows his cheeks are simultaneously flushed and paling as his skin becomes clammy, sticking awkwardly to his clothes. His chest starts to feel hot, unpleasant and rising fast. His body begins to burn as his ears ring so loudly he doesn’t know if he’ll ever hear again. His body is starting to give out as the darkness on the edges of his vision intensifies, he brings a hand up to clutch at his chest, and that’s when he feels it.

His heart isn’t beating.

For a couple seconds, he ignores the shrieking in his ears and burning in his body, desperately feeling for a sign of life. Nothing’s there. His chest is still. His throat closes. He isn’t breathing.

_Oh my god,_ Jonas thinks, _this is what dying feels like._

Before darkness can overtake him, he hears the cafeteria door slam open. With the one last ounce of strength in his failing body, he lifts his head. Over the roar in his ears and the blackness in his vision, he sees his worst nightmare. He realizes Mitch _freaking_ Mueller will be the last sight he sees before he dies, but he can’t tear his eyes away. Mitch is grinning wickedly, flanked by his friends.

He thinks so, at least.

Because oddly, _really_ oddly, the only person he can see right now is Mitch. The only thing he can see at all is Mitch. There’s brightness surrounding him. The tables, the students, everything else is gone. He isn’t sure if anything else has ever existed.

Just Mitch.

As if he can hear his thoughts, he turns towards him. And as their eyes lock, something remarkable happens.

His heart beats. And beats again. And again and again, until it’s fluttering in his chest. The pain is gone, every ounce of it leaves as he stares at the other boy. He’s ignoring it entirely, focused on something else. Something so much more remarkable, and so, _so_ much worse.

The entire world is set ablaze with color. It’s as if he’s been blind his whole life, and now he can see. It’s like taking his first breath of oxygen. It’s like his world has been at a standstill and is just now starting to rotate on its axis. It’s different than Sid described, and even though she did as best as she could, nothing could prepare Jonas for the vibrancy of this new world. It’s all on his periphery, he isn’t paying attention to the way the colors burst wildly into being, he’s still staring at Mitch. The taller boy is slack-jawed and wide-eyed, one of his enormous hands against his heart. His busted fingers are trembling as he squeezes the ratty t-shirt underneath his denim vest. His t-shirt is orange.

_“Run_ , Jonas.”

The words have barely left his twin’s mouth before Jonas springs from his seat with unbridled energy. He has no idea where it’s come from, especially since just seconds ago his heart had stopped. But he’s light as air, running faster than he’s ever moved out of the cafeteria’s back doors and into the complex maze of Sellwood High’s hallways. It’s a sensory overload as his feet slap hard against the tile with every bound, his head feels fuzzy trying to comprehend what this new world looks like. His mind is spinning as his breath grows heavier; he can’t keep any thoughts straight. The voice in his mind, he knows it’s his, but it’s saying things he can’t comprehend.

_How did I know- I knew, I knew- Mitch’s shirt was orange? I like orange. I like it so much. It’s the best thing I’ve ever seen. I was blind, foolish and blind. So beautiful, so beautiful-_

“No!” Jonas yells out loud. His lungs are burning and his legs are growing exhausted. Slowing to a jog, he strains his ears but doesn’t hear the sound of footsteps following him, so he slows to a limping walk. His chest is heaving, and he’s not 100% sure if it’s just from the running.

_His eyes, shining, like feeling the sun on your face early in the morning, shocked and beautiful, so beautiful-_

He slams his fists into the sides of his head, sinking down against a locker. The mantra continues in his head, unstoppable, like a tidal wave of words. He grits his teeth as tears threaten his eyes.

“This can’t be happening,” he whines through clenched teeth, “it can’t be real. It can’t be him. Something happened, it can’t be him. Not him.” Jonas shudders. He can’t bear to say his name out loud as his head flutters _Mitch, Mitch, Mitch Mitch Mitch-_

It only stops when he hears a loud slam and the sound of crunching metal. He peeks an eye open, and from his spot wedged into a corner he sees a large figure stalk off, leaving a mangled locker door on the ground where it stood. He gapes at the locker door, which he assumes Mitch had just torn off the wall with his bare hands.

_Big hands, so b-_

“Shut up,” he mumbles to himself.


	2. Crave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHAT AN UPDATE we got today- so here's a doozy of a chapter to go along with that awesome update! It's longish, and features both Mitch and Jonas' perspectives. I'm sorry I switch between them so much, they're both just so fun to write! Hope you enjoy!

Mitch walks fast, jamming his bleeding hands into his pockets. Blood is a jarring, surprising color. The color of how it feels to be burned. Everything is jarring. And unsettling. The world is too bright and too intense, it makes his eyes hurt. His chest feels like it’s locked in a vice, squeezing so hard it feels like his heart might burst from the pressure.

It’s Jonas. The love of his mother _fucking_ life, Jonas Wagner. Soulmate. His match. His equal, the person who he wakes up for every morning. The person who slows his breathing when he’s angry and calms his heartbeat when he’s afraid.

It’s mother. Fucking. Jonas. He knew it. He had to have known it. That’s why he couldn’t shake the idea of him, couldn’t forget the freckles that dotted his cheeks for the years he was away from this shithole town.

_Eyes like the smell of freshly cut grass in the summer, look like home, feel like a hug from Mom, soft like Buddy’s snout, perfect, so perfect-_

“I know,” He says out loud, annoyed. But the song in his head continues.

_Freckles, like stars in the sky, he’s a galaxy, he’s the universe, made of constellations, so perfect-_

“Stop,” Mitch growls, clenching his fists and slamming through double doors leading out of the school. He’s going home, he can’t be here. Jonas doesn’t want to see him. Who would? He can’t think about it, can’t bear to think about the months Jonas has been feeling his presence only to find out it was him.

‘Not him,’ repeats again and again in his head, competing with the lovesick chant that won’t quiet. His voice shook so bad when he said it. It wasn’t even filled with hate or anger, it was filled with fear. Somehow, that’s even worse. With overwhelming rage, he picks up a garbage can and hurls it as hard as he can into the side of the brick building. Trash explodes on impact and it makes a loud clanging sound. From an open window he hears murmurs, an adult yelling at him to stop, to wait, to get back inside, but everything’s quiet in the world. He’s in his own head, only listening to 2 things.

 _Jonas, Jonas, Jonas Jonas Jonas_ , his mind chants.

‘Not him,’ a soft voice trembles.

He walks faster, picking up speed towards the trailer park. His thoughts are interrupted as a louder, deeper voice booms from behind him.

“Bro!” Javier leans out of Scratch’s beater as they slow to his pace. Mitch doesn’t look down, he can’t meet anyone’s eyes right now, so he keeps them ahead. “Uh, hello, we’re offerin’ you a ride home.”

“Don’t need it,” he replies curtly. Abruptly, Javier’s hand darts out to catch him around the forearm and yank him with surprising strength into the backseat. Mitch falls with a grunt not onto the seat but instead onto the rusting, uncarpeted floor of the car. With rage, he looks up to start yelling but stops. The world is so damn different now. Javi looked much more intimidating in grayscale. With all the colors in the world now appearing to him, Mitch can see his friend’s eyes are deep brown and gentle, his goofy clown makeup is the color of the sky, and under the facepaint his cheeks have a natural pink glow. He looks much less like a killer clown. Scratch looks back from the driver’s seat, and her wild, inauthentic hair color is patchy and her dark roots are showing through the green. Her eyes remind him of a shock of static electricity. He stares, disconcerted, for a second too long.

“JESUS FUCKIN’ CHRIST ON A CRACKER,” Scratch shrieks and slams on the brakes. Her 3 passengers are tossed forward, and Cliff takes the brunt, his head knocking hard against the dash.

“Fuck ya doin’ that fer ya little shit, y’re gonna git us killed,” Cliff grumbles and rubs his chin, but before he can continue Scratch claps one of her small, sharp hands over his mouth.

“SHH, shut UP. Mitch has the look! He’s matched!” She cries, her voice breaking. Mitch’s stomach drops.

“No.”

“Ho-ly shit,” Javier says with a smile creeping across his face, “you _do_ have the look.”

“I don’t!” He barks angrily. Cliff, still rubbing his chin, turns around to evaluate Mitch and freezes.

“Well, I’ll be damned. Y’ do,” the blonde agrees with a nod. If anyone knows for sure, it’s Cliff. He had matched only days after his 18th birthday, with a red-haired girl from his gym class. She loves horses and is part of chess club and color-codes her notebooks, but he looks at her like the sun shines out her ass. Mitch understands why now.

“Who’s the lucky fella?!” Scratch yelps, a wild smile splitting her face. They all seem to lean in, and he looks out the window.

“Not important,” he avoids, and Javier scoffs.

“Yeah, it is. We’re happy for you, you could use someone to soften ya up a little!” Javier teases with a wide smile of his own. He huffs out a sigh, and asks if he can bum a cigarette. With a couple drags he’s feeling calmer, maybe a little more willing to talk.

“Joey,” he says shakily on an exhale, and stares hard at his hands. “Jonas Wagner.” There’s a couple seconds of silence before Cliff breaks it with a noise of recognition.

“Mn, that fat band geek,” but he’s interrupted as Mitch’s hand wraps around his skinny neck from behind.

“You wanna fuckin’ tell me what you just said, huh? You wanna say it again?” He can hear his voice growing louder as fingers desperately try to pry his hand away, so he tightens his grip slightly. He lets Cliff flounder for a few long seconds, until he releases his throat and leans back into the seat, satisfied with the message sent. But, just for good measure, he raps his fist against the back of the blonde’s head as a final warning

“Wagner... yeah, pretty sure he’s in my Physics class. Nice kid. Nerd.” Javier nurses his own cigarette. Mitch turns to scowl at him, but he only receives a smile, “how’d he take it?”

“Not so fuckin’ good, what the fuck do you think,” he spits angrily.

“Not surprised. That kid’s more virgin than olive oil,” Javi chuckles. Mitch doesn’t get the joke.

“So are you!” Scratch counters from the front seat

“Nuh-uh,” he protests with a grimace, “I have a girlfriend who goes to another school and we’ve done it, like, tons of times.” Mitch just tunes their bickering out, trying to get his fingers to stop trembling. Now they know, it's out in the open. His friends have confirmed it for him. He isn’t crazy, he hadn’t imagined it, it isn’t a dream.

Jonas Wagner is his soulmate.

In all truth, it doesn’t matter who knows. It doesn’t matter if the whole world knows, because the only person whose opinion matters is Joey, and it had been made pretty clear in the hallway. He runs his teeth over the filter of the cigarette and resigns to crossing his arms, because his hands don’t seem to want to stop their shaking. When they pull into the dirt lot of the trailer park, Mitch jumps out of the car with a nod to Scratch.

“Tomorrow’s a brand new day, loverboy!” She shrieks in return as he slams open the door to his aunt’s trailer. She’s on the couch, as usual, but surprisingly she’s face up for once. Lazily, she knocks back a drink from her plastic cup, full of what Mitch guesses must be vodka. Or maybe just beer, because it’s almost noon and she’s still conscious.

“Hey, aren’t you s’posed to be at school?” she questions, raising one unkempt eyebrow.

“Aren’t _you_ s’posed to be at work?” Mitch counters. Lorraine just shrugs and makes a noncommittal noise.

“Got fired Tuesday. Wanna watch Maury?” she says as she motions towards the TV set in front of her, a little of her drink sloshing on the ground in front of her. He shakes his head.

“Nah. I’m goin’ to bed.”

“Suit yourself,” she scoffs, and doesn’t bother questioning why he’s going to sleep so early. Honestly, she might not even know what time it is, so he pushes through the cramped living room into his bedroom. After he shuts the door, he can still hear the TV blaring from the other room. Outside in the distance, someone is shouting. Buddy is rummaging under his bed, probably for food scraps or crumbs, and his little claws make scratching noises. Mitch swallows thickly. There’s people everywhere, he’s surrounded, and it’s suffocating because he feels so goddamn _lonely._ He flops onto his bed, staring hard at the ceiling as he toes his sneakers off, kicking them to the floor. Near his head, Buddy scrambles up the bed post and makes his way onto his pillow, curling himself into a prickly ball against the line Mitch’s neck with a long huff. He raises his hand to stroke his fur and quills.

“Yeah. Me, too Bud,” he murmurs, staring hard at the mold in the corner of the ceiling. After a while, he turns his head and presses his face into Buddy’s back for support. His nose wrinkles. The little animal smells pretty ripe, and had obviously rolled around in something rank under his bed while he was at school. As if sensing his thoughts, Buddy rises and trots down the bed to the open window. With a wiggle he jumps to the windowsill, clambering up and squeezing though a hole in the screen, off to chase butterflies or eat some moss. Mitch turns back towards the ceiling, knowing he can’t close his eyes yet. Because when he does, he knows what he’ll see.

Freckles. Skin the color of the smell of coffee. Soft, dark hair curled around those cute ears. How his long eyelashes brush the apple of his cheeks when he casts those damn perfect eyes downward. Those eyes that looked at him with so much fear. Mitch would do anything, _anything_ to see them lit up with joy, glowing with excitement, clouded with lust, gleaming with adoration. He’ll see that lower lip, chapped and wet from being constantly chewed on. Mitch wants that lip between his teeth, he wants to be the one chewing on that lip.

He groans, rubbing his eyes hard. It’s not like he’s never thought of this stuff. Just the opposite, actually, he’d thought about this stuff kind of... a lot. It’s just new now, seeing Jonas in all his vivid colorful glory, knowing that the presence inside his chest around his heart has always been him. He feels like a creep as he runs over every fantasy he’s ever had about him, every time he’s jerked off thinking about his lips and his stomach and his goddamn gorgeous thighs.

 _Would feel so nice on your face-_ the voice in his head inputs. It’s right, and he can’t take it anymore. He needs to go to sleep. Yeah, that’s his excuse, he needs to jerk off to sleep, that’s it. He repeats the lie to himself as the presence throbs painfully in his chest. It hurts, it’s been hurting all day, but he ignores it in favor of fumbling with his broken zipper and yanking his jeans halfway down his thighs. He licks his rough, chapped lips as his eyes slip closed, and he finally sees him.

“Joey,” his voice is barely above a whisper as he wraps his hand around his already aching dick. He starts off slow, stroking once every few seconds to get hard. That’s how Joey’d do it.

 _Pretty, freckled fingers shaking against his length as he nervously tried to find the right rhythm. Mitch would sing praises into Joey’s ear, nibble at his earlobe and kiss those perfect cheeks, drinking in the noises he made as Mitch stroked him expertly, thumbing over the head of his cock. He’d bring his thumb up to his mouth, taste Joey’s precum, tell him how delicious he was as his match whined against his neck. He’d swallow his moans, breathe for him as they kissed desperately. He’d make innocent little Joey wild and wanton, lacing fingers through his hair and tugging gently, exposing his neck. He’d leave dark bruises, mark him up, claim him as his own, all while pumping his fist over that cute little cock. When Joey would start to get the hang of jerking him off, when his hands found that perfect rhythm and Mitch found himself getting close, he would pull him into his lap. Those flawless thighs, decorated with pale stretch marks and adorned with freckles, would straddle his own._ _Joey’d wear one of his threadbare shirts, with his perfect cock peeking out from beneath the hem, its tip leaking and creating a dark wet patch on the fabric. He’d take a handful of his round ass, relishing in how moldable and soft it felt under his big fingers, and drag him forward until the underside of his gorgeous cock was pressed right up against Mitch’s length. He can’t even imagine the noises Joey’d make as he rutted up into him, thrusting his hips and stroking them both together simultaneously. Jonas would be reduced to cries and moans, and he would bite that beautiful fucking neck almost hard enough to break the skin. As his hips would start to tremble, as his cries got breathier and more high-pitched, Mitch would whisper in his ear._

_“That’s right, baby. Sing for me,” He’d growl, picking his pace up._

_“Oh, Mitch, oh n-no, no,” Joey would gasp, “it’s- you’re too- oh God, I’m cumming, I-i’m cumming for you, Mitch-”_

“Oh holy shit,” Mitch hisses as he finishes embarrassingly quickly, his dick twitching in his hand as thick ropes of cum splatter against his lower stomach. His eyebrows knit together as his breathing begins to slow, because that was _way_ too fast. He hopes that isn’t some side effect of being matched, but there’s no way in hell he’s asking Cliff to find out, so he just picks up a crusty towel from the floor. He wipes the cooling, sticky liquid from his fingers and stomach, yanks his pants back up, and swings his legs over the side of his bed to sit up. He was so fucking stupid to think that daydreaming about Joey would lull him to sleep, because it’s done the exact opposite. He feels electrified, like all the nerves in his body are vibrating. He’s glowing with adoration, except for the spot in his chest with is still twisting anxiously and sadly. His fingers lay softly against his heart, feeling the pulsing of Joey’s nervous presence beneath his skin, and he groans. All he wants is to take him into his arms, hold him, rock him, wipe away the tears and kiss away the sadness, stroke his curly hair until sleep frees him from the panic he’s feeling.

But he can’t.

Because he’s the reason for that panic. It’s because of him. And that thought hurts him deeper than he ever thought possible, so much more than any physical blow he’s taken or cruel word that’s been hurled at him. What’s he supposed to _do?_ All he’s ever known is loving the freckled boy from afar and hurting him when he got too close. He peels his shirt off, because it has a little bit of drying cum on the bottom, and rummages through a box filled with clothes which sits on his floor. He pulls on a flannel, one that’s a little less grungy than the rest of his shirts, because he wants to look somewhat presentable for who he’s going to see. She always helps, she’ll know what to do since she’s been through enough shit to know a thing or two about how the world works.

He has to go see his Mom.

He pulls on his trashed sneakers and walks through the living room.

“Where you goin,’ big guy?” His aunt slurs, her cheek pressed against the arm of the couch.

“See my Mom.”

“M’kay, tell ‘er Liv from the salon’s knocked up.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Mitch grumbles as he leaves through the creaky door, lighting a cigarette and dialing Scratch’s number.

“Missed me too much already?!” her voice crackles through his phone.

“I need to go to Sunshine State,” he says. Sunshine State Women’s’ Facility is where his Mom’s doing time. It’s not a far drive, but much too far to walk, so he always asks Scratch to take him. They have an unspoken agreement about it, she never pries or tries to ask about the visit, just hums along happily to the radio as they speed down the coastline to the penitentiary. When they pull in front of the washed-out brick building, he tosses his switchblade onto the passenger seat and stomps out his cigarette in the gravel parking lot.

“Won’t be too long,” he assures her as he makes his way towards the doors

“Take your time!” she calls, pulling a beaten up copy of _Farenheit 451_ from underneath her seat. She always reads it to occupy herself while Mitch visits Henrietta, but damned if he’ll ever understand why. Reading a book about reading books sounds like his worst nightmare. He’s buzzed into the waiting room and walks up to a counter, where the thick bulletproof glass opens up for him. A sweet voice drawls out.

“Well now bless my heart, ain’t you a sight for sore eyes honey! Your mama’s gonna be happier than a bunny in a briar patch to see you! You get taller, dear?” He can’t help but smile. The older Southern receptionist is always here when he comes to visit, and she has a soft spot for him. Her warm brown eyes seem a little tired as she leans over the counter with a saccharine smile, her wild blonde hair piled high up on top of her head. She has bright magenta lipstick on her teeth.

“Hey, Mabel. No, I think you’re just gettin’ shorter.” He responds, and she tosses her head back as she brays out a laugh.

“Gettin’ a lil wider, too, sugar! I’ll buzz ya through,” she pats her plump thigh and hops up from her chair, walking out of the office behind the counter and buzzing the door into the visiting room open. He ducks under the metal detector as he hears them page his Mom over the intercom system. He takes a seat at one of the sterile white tables in the visiting room, and rests his hand over his heart once more. His stomach turns when he realizes Joey’s presence has softened, just the smallest bit, and it doesn’t feel quite as icy as it did before. He shuts his eyes and absentmindedly starts rubbing slow, gentle circles over his chest. It might just be in his imagination, but he thinks he feels the presence calm a little bit more.

“Oh, there’s my handsome man!” He hears behind him, and he melts. He’s butter, absolute putty in his Mom’s hands, and he turns around with a goofy smile. She outstretches her thin arms and wraps him in a hug, her head leaning into his chest. Her prison khakis feel stiff and uncomfortable against his arms, and Mitch rests his cheek on her dyed hair.

“Hi, Ma. You look great,” he says earnestly. She twirls with her arms up, modeling her uniform while letting out a cackling laugh. When she sits, she fluffs her blonde hair.

“Oh stop it, you. I did just get my hair done, Louisa did such a great job,” she says as her hands stretch across the table and he gathers them between his own, wrapping her spindly fingers up. Her voice is like music to his ears, the way her accent sounds as she replaces “ah” with “aw” and doesn’t exactly pronounce her “r” sounds.

“Yeah. I miss you. How you been doin’ in here? Anyone give ya trouble?”

“I know, Mitchy, I miss you too... but it won’t be much longer now,” She says with a sigh. Then her face changes from a sad smile to a devious one. “Oh, please. You think anyone’d have the cohones to fuck with me? I run this fuckin’ place, got some friends to take care a’ me.” She chatters on about what she’s been up to, the crafts she’d picked up, her gang of prison moms. He remembers to tell her that Liv- whoever she is- is pregnant, and she gasps, launching into gossip. For a few minutes he’s forgotten why he came in the first place, just smiling and squeezing her hands as she prattles. “And so Mabel, think her daughter’s a senior now, well she says the girl needs a date to prom and she asks me, ‘how ‘bout Mitchy?’ and I’m like ‘Well tough shit, Cracker Barrel, but lemme know if you’ve gotta son!’” Henrietta cackles, then becomes serious, “Oh I keep tellin’ her, though, she keeps eatin’ all those biscuits it ain’t gonna be good for her, she’s got a weak heart you know and I worry about the sodium and her cholesterol-”

“Actually, Ma, that reminds me of why I came... that’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Mitch interrupts.

“...Cracker Barrel biscuits?” Henrietta questions, cocking her head.

“No. About a... guy.” he says, and his voice slips quieter. His Mom grimaces.

“What happened? You okay? What this guy do?” She demands gravely, obviously misunderstanding. He shakes his head quickly, looking away and pulling one hand away from hers to rub at the back of his neck.

“Not, not like that Ma. A good guy... really great guy, uh-”

“Oh my frickin’ God Mitchy,” her amber eyes are blown wide open, and she leans towards him, “did you _match?_ ” He looks at her uneasily, and she recognizes it immediately. She smiles her gigantic, toothy smile as her eyes start to well up. “Oh my Gooood, oh my baby’s a man now,” she pulls one hand from his grasp to fan at her eyes in an attempt to dry the tears which threaten to fall. She fans faster and rolls her eyes to the ceiling as she excitedly asks, “Oh did you kiss him? What’s he like? Is he a good boy, treat ya right? What’s his name and where did it happen and when and-” she stops abruptly. Mitch looks up from their clasped hands to see worry on her long face. She flips their hands so she’s holding his long fingers firmly, running her thumbs over them. “Uh, oh,” she whispers, “tell me what’s wrong.” His eyebrows knit together as he purses his lips firmly. He doesn’t know how far back he should go... so with a deep breath, he goes all the way back to beginning.

He goes to middle school when he was a dumb kid being beaten mercilessly, who couldn’t comprehend the thought of someone wanting to hang around him. How Joey had gotten too close and he had panicked, flipped his confusing thoughts into actions and begun to torment him. After that, Joey begged him to stay away, but whenever he had tried to he found that he couldn’t. Then when he’d left, despite all that time they’d spent apart, he could never stop thinking about him. He was an ignorant kid, didn’t realize what he was feeling, just thought he had a weird obsession. Until the night he realized he was gay, after denying and avoiding for so long, and he realized that Jonas was his first crush. He’d been the first person to make him feel happy, the only person. How just that morning, he’d woken up in an excited terror over the idea of seeing him again. And most importantly, how that unbearable pain which racked his body all day had melted away under Joey’s gaze, and how those beautiful green eyes had restarted his heart. How it felt as if his heart was beating for the first time ever. His hands start to shake slightly as he explains what he’d heard him say to himself in the hall. His Mom nods along with his stories, clasping his fingers tighter when she needs to, her face a look of worried sympathy.

“Sounds to me like you’re feelin’ guilty,” she whispers as he pauses. His eyebrows shoot up, because she’s... right? It took her 20 seconds to accurately figure out what he’s been toiling over.

“So what am I s’posed to do?” he groans, defeated. “He wasn’t really goin’ outta his way to talk to me before, now there ain’t no chance in hell that Joey’ll ever talk to me again. Or look at me, or... shit, or anything.”

“You’ve had no trouble goin’ right up to this boy in the past, even if he asked you to fuck off,” she starts, and he rolls his eyes. Joey would never say that. She continues, “so if he’s gonna avoid you, you gotta be the one to make _sure_ he can’t. He’s your soulmate, Mitchy... why wouldn’t he like you?”

He can name 500 different reasons immediately. 500 more with a minute to think. But as Henrietta rubs his fingers and smiles reassuringly at him... he believes her. That’s one of the greatest things about his Mom; she’s honest, sometimes brutally so when she tells it like it is, but it means he can put his utmost trust in what she says. Just as he opens his mouth to say something, a burly-looking guard enters the room and announces that visiting hours have ended in a booming voice. Mitch stands with a frown, but it falls away as Henrietta pinches his cheek and uses it to pull him down, smacking a kiss onto his temple.

“I love you Mitchy, good luck. Bring that hot piece a’ ass Joey to visit with you next time!” she exclaims with a wink. His face flushes violently as she cackles. When her hand falls from his cheek he feels a little cold. He watches her walk through the door, and follows a slew of visitors back out into the waiting room. He nods a goodbye to Mabel and stalks out the door to Scratch’s beater, where she sits cross-legged in the driver seat, reading with an ever-present grin on her face. She blinks, surprised as Mitch plops down heavily into the passenger seat, and starts the car to make the drive home. He lights two cigarettes, handing one across the car to Scratch, who takes it almost rabidly. He brings his unoccupied hand to his chest, letting his eyes slip closed contentedly, because for the first time that day, the presence in his chest is glowing warm. Which is encouraging, of course, because it means that even knowing Mitch is his soulmate, Joey’s still able to... be happy.

Now, he just has to become the reason for that happiness.

* * *

 

Jonas has _never_ wanted to leave school more than this exact second. After he sheds a few pathetic tears in the hallway over the fact that _Mitch freaking Mueller_ just set his world ablaze, he trudges his way to physics class. He can’t look into anyone’s eyes right now, he feels that everyone _knows,_ so he keeps his gaze locked to the floor. His chest feels tight as he settles into his desk, and he can’t tell if it’s Mitch’s angry presence or his own anxiety. His teacher starts to lecture, but he tunes the words out. Mitch must be... livid. He hates Jonas’ guts, obviously, he’s made that pretty clear with the constant torment. Actually, maybe he should be thanking his lucky stars that he didn’t beat the _sweet heck_ out of him... wait, had Mitch ever actually beaten him up? Had... had he ever actually even laid a violent hand on him?

He... hasn’t. Ever.

Jonas frowns in confusion, racking his brain. Well, there were those times that he’d pulled his hair but... it wasn’t ever really hard enough to hurt. Usually it was to get his attention. Oh! There were all the times that Mitch had pushed him against the lockers to... to... well. Basically just to bug him, tease him about his freckles or steal his hat, holding it above his head to make him jump for it. When Neil and the other lacrosse players slam him against the lockers, it hurts, and usually his shoulders bruise. Now that he thinks about it.... He had never bruised after Mitch had done it. He’s seen what Mitch is capable of, he can rip a locker door off its hinges or stab a grown man hard enough to hospitalize him. It’s undeniable that Jonas holds the title for his favorite target, but it’s strange that he’s never actually been the target of violence. The chasing and teasing he endures doesn’t compare to the atomic flagpole wedgies and urinal swirlies Mitch gives other kids. The jocks call him fat, pathetic, and worthless. Mitch calls him Spots. He’s still mean, and intimidating, and a bully, but maybe he... isn’t as bad as Jonas thought he was. He’s pulled from his thoughts by a startling slam against the side of the building, causing everyone to jump up from their seats.

“Holy shit, Mitch just threw a garbage can!” One kid yells.

Nope, still just as bad.

“Mitchell Mueller, you stop right there! Get back here!” Mr. Britton shouts out the window, and out of the corner of his eye he sees Mitch’s friend, the guy who paints his face with clown makeup, slip out of the classroom. Jonas is the only person still sitting, which he guesses might actually be more suspicious than flying to the window with everyone else, but he really can’t bear looking at Mitch right now. His heart is fluttering wildly just at the thought of him, but not out of fear like it used to. He can only imagine his body’s reaction if he were to look at him. His heart’s reaction, that is. And stomach’s. But nothing else’s. Obviously.

He trudges through the rest of the school day in a fog, having to tend almost constantly to the incessant presence in his chest. It’s turning and spinning like a rough ocean, from anguish to anger, from angst to despair, and it’s exhausting to keep up with. And it’s... disheartening. He’s supposed to enjoy this new world, and he does, to an extent. He revels in seeing Sidney’s emerald eyes for the first time and counting all the shades of blue in the sky outside the window, but he’s constantly distracted by intrusive thoughts about a certain tall, amber eyed, big toothed, foul-mouthed bully. He’s startled by how much he keeps thinking about Mitch’s opinion of him. Mitch is a delinquent who wears vulgar shirts and thinks fire is cool. So what if he thought Jonas is a dumb, weird nerd with stupid freckles? Who cares if he thinks he’s lame and a crybaby? So what if that might make him totally unlovable, if even his soulmate is so disgusted by the idea of him he vandalizes school property twice in the span of 10 minutes?

So what if it hurts so bad?

And he tries, wholeheartedly, to feel that way. But it just isn’t in him. He knows Sidney can tell that something’s really wrong, because she’s been staring at him with furrowed brows and concerned eyes all day. He hasn’t spoken a word to her since the morning. The twins are silent on the bus ride home, silent up the walkway and steps, through the door, up the stairs, and into her room, all the way up until Jonas plops heavily down on his sisters bed and buries his head in his hands.

“What the hell is wrong, Jojo?! I’ve been so freaked out and worried sick all day. First, you’re passing out in the bathroom this morning, then you’re pale and shaky all day, and now you’re totally quiet and not talking to me!” She says, waving her arms around frantically from her spot near the door. Jonas just stares, on the verge of crying for the second time that day, and her face softens. “C’mon,” she urges, crossing the room and sitting cross-legged on the floor, resting her cheek on his knee and staring up at him. His stomach is turning, but he speaks anyway.

“I matched today,” his voice comes out watery and quiet. His sister’s eyes widen.

“That’s amazing! I mean, it is, right? Shouldn’t you be... excited? Like, the world is so beautiful and you’re in love and stuff,” she trails off.

“No, it’s- I- I matched with a guy,” he says weakly, chewing on the skin of his lower lip.

“Oh... I... I mean, I’m kinda surprised this is bumming you out so much,” she says with a cocked eyebrow, “I didn’t think the gender of your soulmate mattered, especially to you, you’ve always been really open and accepting.”

Jonas shakes his head. It’s not the fact that his soulmate is a guy that bothers him, even though he’s never really thought about another guy in this way before.

Except for the counselor from that sleep-away camp he and Sid went to when they were 13. His name was Nick or Nate or something, and he just looked super good in khaki shorts.

But that’s beside the point.

No, it’s _who_ the guy is that’s causing him so much turmoil. He drops his head back into his hands, and Sid reaches up to jostle his wrists, trying to pull them away from his face.

“It’s Mitch,” he mutters from behind his hands.

“What, who? I can’t hear you,” she prods.

“Mitch Mueller,” he mumbles, but again it’s distorted.

“Jojo, please speak up, I can’t-”

“It’s Mitch! I matched with Mitch, Sidney! MITCH. MUELLER. IS. MY. SOULMATE.” Jonas barks, his voice loud but still quivering as he throws his hands up in despair. Glancing down, he stares hard at the pattern on the quilt and drops his arms heavily to his sides. A heavy silence fills the room like water, and he feels like he’s drowning. His twin breaks the silence.

“Oh _shiiiiiiit_ ,” she hisses. When he groans in response to her reaction, she quickly tries to cover it up. “Sorry, okay, what I meant was that I’m happy for you I guess? It’s great that your soulmate probably thinks the word degenerate has a ‘j’ in it?” she’s joking, trying to ease the tension, but it’s not working for him.

“It’s not funny, Sid. What’s even going on? My whole life has been leading up to this moment and it’s- it’s _him_ ,” Jonas whines with a grimace. The presence in his chest throbs dejectedly as a reminder. His sister scrambles up from her seat on the floor with a grunt and sits down next to him. She wraps her arms around his frame and leans her head into his shoulder.

“I’m sorry... I wish I could say something to make it better,” she says and pauses to ruffle his hair, then continues with a snort, “but the thing about being matchless is this stuff is honestly impossible for me to understand.”

“There shouldn’t be much to understand... I shouldn’t’ve matched with him,” his voice sounds tight.

“Are you... still scared of him?”

“Y-yeah? I think... It scares me how mad he’s been, I’m pretty sure he’s freaking out too,” he says as he clutches his shirt near his heart. Sid watches his hand squeeze the fabric and shakes her head slightly.

“Crazy to think it’s been Mitch inside you this whole time,” she mumbles, almost to herself. He coughs, turning red and furrowing his eyebrows.

“Don-don’t _say_ it like that!”

“Oh, ew, jeez, sorry. That’s- no. Sorry,” she says, but it seems like she’s trying to contain her laughter. She becomes serious quickly, wrapping him a little tighter. “You do know you don’t have to be around him, right? Especially if he scares you, or if he ever hurts you, you don’t owe him anything just because he’s your soulmate,” she assures him firmly. He groans, because she _really_ doesn’t understand this soulmate stuff. It’s not her fault, but it’s not like he can just ignore Mitch forever. He’s completely occupied by thoughts of him and focused on his presence, and he’s never actually heard of soulmates not being together. He’s heard of soulmates existing as friends, not falling romantically in love but rather remaining constant and stable companions to their match. Such a large part of soulmate companionship is reliant on physical relationship though, either loving or friendly, so much so that soulmates who lose their match or refuse to be with them usually end up sick, or weak, or... dead. In some cruel twist of fate, his own body has forsaken him to be close to Mitch –in one way or another- for the _rest of his life._

“It... doesn’t exactly work like that but I’m definitely going to try to be around him as little as possible,” he promises, not knowing at all how he’ll make it happen. His sister pulls back to study his face, but seems pleased with his answer. She stands and grabs her backpack, pulling out their calculus homework to get started on.

It feels nice, having mindless little distractions like homework and helping clean up dinner to keep his mind off Mitch. He does a pretty good job of ignoring his thoughts all night, but as he pulls on a soft t-shirt and sweatpants to sleep in and finally crawls into bed, he realizes how quiet the house is. And all those thoughts come rushing back instantly. With an annoyed cry he flips over onto his stomach, burying his face in his pillow as he pays attention to the presence emanating from his chest for the first time in a couple hours.

It’s... warm, and even, and secure. Which is good, actually. He’s happy that Mitch can still find peace, even knowing Jonas is his soulmate. Not because he _cares_ about Mitch, just because he’s not cruel and doesn’t want anyone feeling bad, obviously.

For what seems like an eternity he tosses and turns in his bed, trying to find sleep in a head that’s plagued by thoughts about his match. After almost 2 full hours he’s exhausted and frustrated. He’s going to be so freaking tired tomorrow because of stupid Mitch. He squeezes his eyes tight, and decides to go back to what he knows: Carmen. She looked good today, in tight white jeans and a curve-hugging t-shirt. Her hair was in a bun... actually, he doesn’t really like the color of her hair. It was pretty, sure, but... for some reason, it doesn’t excite him like it used to. Mitch’s hair has changed since they were kids. The color is nice. Like the smell of butterscotch chip pancakes, which are coincidentally his favorite. It’s pretty cool, it looks fine. It looks... good. It suits his long face... makes him look mature and handsome.

Wait. Where did that come from?

No time to linger on that question.

Carmen had asked to borrow a pen in history, and her hands had been so soft when she reached out to take it from him. Not like Mitch’s hands, which are big and calloused and bruised. Obviously strong, too, because all of him is strong. He’s sinewy, with defined muscles that show through his pale skin. His skin is beautiful and clear, like the smell of freshly washed sheets. Especially on his arms, which are always exposed. They’ve grown a little more muscular while he was gone. He probably works out. If he’s strong enough to throw a garbage can or tear a locker door off, he’s probably strong enough to lift Jonas.

Without realizing, he loses himself in imagining what Mitch’s arms would feel like, snaking around his waist to pull his body up and make their faces level, staring into amber eyes and a wicked smile straight on. His eyes are breathtaking, which is shocking, because in grayscale they appeared beady and unfeeling. But they’re... magnificent. The color is gentle, deep, maybe even a little luxurious. Almost gold, which Sidney had likened to the sensation of crunching through the hard chocolate shell on a dipped ice cream cone. Which is probably right, but not for Mitch’s gold. His is more like the smell of a bonfire, or biting into a warm banana muffin. He’s brought back to reality as he realizes there’s a familiar feeling burning low in his pelvis, and his eyes widen.

Noooooope.

This is not happening.

Cautiously, he rolls to turn onto his side, and his face burns bright red as he realizes he’s completely hard in his sweatpants for _Mitch Mueller_. With a whine, he shuts his eyes, because there is absolutely no way this is real and actually happening. It must be some sort of strange nightmare or a weird reaction related to matching. He’s not attracted to Mitch, not to his big hands or wide smile or sharp jaw. Not to those strong arms or long legs.

But... he’s so tired... and maybe having an orgasm will help him get to sleep...

He isn’t even halfway through that thought when he shoves his hand into his sweatpants, gasping at how wet he is already, precum gathering at the head of his rock hard dick. He strokes up and down once and instantly knows he’s too far gone to stop. Biting onto his pillow, he starts to rock his hips up slightly in time with his strokes

_Mitch would be behind him, one large hand wrapped around Jonas’ pulsing cock and the other cradling his face. He’d bury his face into the pillow as Mitch breathed into his hair and nudged his large thumb against the smaller boy’s parted lips. Hungrily, but still timidly, he’d take the digit into his mouth and suck on it softly, marveling at how strong hips would press themselves harder into his clothed backside, rutting up slowly. Despite the layers of clothes between them, he’d still be able to feel Mitch’s incredibly hard length pressing insistently against his butt. His thumb would taste like ashes, but Jonas wouldn’t care, just focusing on the mindblowing sensation of being stroked off and rubbed up against. He’d be a mess, a writhing body of moans and cries as Mitch broke him down with just a hand. The hot breath on the back of his neck would make him shiver as Mitch would growl into his ear. The Mitch of his fantasies is lovesick, whispering filthy praise as they kissed and touched and stroked._

_“Wanna fuck those sweet thighs, baby,” a low voice would moan into his ear. All inhibitions out the window, he’d drop his hands from Mitch’s wrists and yank his sweatpants down. Mitch’d tug his fingers out of his mouth and pull back, questioning._

_“Come do it,” he’d breathe bravely, “they’re yours.” He can only imagine how hot and stifling it’d feel in his room and under the covers as Mitch yanked his jeans and underwear down, just enough to expose his dripping cock. Jonas bets it’s big, just like the rest of him. With impatient, passionate fervor he’d pull his big hand from Jonas’ cock and slip it between his thighs, using his precum to slick them. He’d kiss his dark curls and slowly position himself at the junction of Jonas’ thighs, his head pressing against them but not moving, searching for approval. Once he got a nod, Mitch’d slowly push his cock between the thickness of his thighs and moan like an injured animal. Jonas would barely be able to take it, instantly on the edge of cumming as he felt Mitch’s big cock press through and rub against the bottom of his sac. Their pace would quicken, become more desperate as they both got closer to climax. The sensation of his plush thighs getting mercilessly fucked would make him tremble and cry as Mitch wrapped him up, using the free hand that wasn’t pumping over his cock to force his face to the side, into his own for a rabid kiss, all slick tongue and big teeth. It’d be terribly amazing; feel like nothing he’d ever felt before. With tears in his eyes and drool slipping down his chin, he’d whine like a bitch in heat, pressing his thighs together around Mitch’s length._

_“God how’re you so good, Spots, baby? Gonna make me bust my fuckin’ nut all over your pretty thighs with that noise. Feels so nice ‘n fuckin’ tight-”his voice would cut out with a strangled groan, his hips losing some rhythm as they jerked against the back of Jonas’ body as warm, slick cum would  start to gather between his legs-_

“Mitch,” he sobs into his pillow as he orgasms, thrusting into his fist wildly as his whole body lights on fire. It’s the best orgasm he’s ever had, and he tries hard to ignore that fact. He starts to slow his strokes as his body stops trembling and his ragged gasps turn to shallow breaths. He swallows thickly and rolls over to grab some tissues from his nightstand. There’s an unsettling shame sitting low in his stomach as he cleans his hand off. It’s fine, he tells himself, totally normal. He was supposed to feel this way about his soulmate, he was just giving into normal temptations. And besides, the person in his fantasy wasn’t the real Mitch. The real Mitch was cruel and mean, but the person in his fantasy was loving and gentle. Also still a guy, who still looked and sounded and smelled exactly like the real Mitch, but he’s not going to pay attention to that _little_ detail. He’s just going to snuggle deep into his covers and let his tired eyes slip shut.

He knows tomorrow isn’t going to be an easy day. He’s going to have to avoid the one person who has taken up all the space in his brain, the one person who probably wants to see him even less.

As he lets sleep overtake him, the last thought on his mind is how those long, damaged fingers would feel running through his hair, lulling him to sleep.

No, tomorrow is _not_ going to be an easy day at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Cracker Barrel biscuits y'all (and Henrietta). Mitch is a Mama's boy. The voices in the boys' heads are naughty.
> 
> Thank you for reading, you don't know how much it means to me!


	3. Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anotha one (DJ Khaled voice)
> 
> originally i was going to split this into 2 chapters BUT I wanted to put them together, they're short so it will be 5 chaps like I planned, sorry for the confusion :)

Mitch wakes up ecstatic. He’s a man on a mission, running on an entire 4 hours and 45 minutes of sleep, more than he’s gotten in months. He springs out of bed at his alarm, startling Buddy, who’d been sleeping happily on his back. The little animal chatters at him in discontent.

“Sorry Bud, but it’s a big day,” Mitch answers, his body jittery with nervous excitement. He makes his way to the box of clothes on the floor, searching through it for something decently clean looking and halfway decent smelling. He brings each ratty t-shirt and tank top to his face to sniff, then tosses each one aside in rejection. He’s left with one that only has a hole in the armpit and smells kind of okay. He pulls on the gray shirt, which has a little picture of two pot leaves high-fiving over the words ‘HIGH FIVE,’ and tugs on his shredded jeans as he stumbles to the bathroom. He digs around in the filthy drawers and victoriously pulls out toothpaste and a haggard-looking toothbrush. The toothpaste is so old and crusty it takes all his strength to squeeze a dot onto the bristles, but he manages to and shoves it into his mouth, brushing for the first time in... a while. He spends 9 whole minutes looking in the mirror, wetting his hands and trying to flatten some stray hairs which stick out of his head awkwardly, until he hears a loud honk outside his trailer.

“Well well, do I smell deodorant?!” Scratch cackles as he thumps heavily into the passenger seat, but he doesn’t answer. Cliff’s in the backseat but it seems Javier’s skipping today, and they speed away from the trailer park.

For the first time in his life, Mitch is excited for school.

He doesn’t bother going to first period, electing to smoke outside the gym instead, because he knows he couldn’t have that class with Jonas. It’s a sophomore writing class that his dumb ass needs to take after being held back. Second period is when he strikes, he knows he has environmental science with Joey, since Cliff’s soulmate Annie has that class with them, too. It was actually pretty nice of her to let him know, and he thinks maybe she’s okay, even if she does color-coordinate her braces with holidays. He stands outside the door to Jeff’s classroom, his eyes scanning the crowded halls for his match’s fluffy hair as he tries desperately to look casual but feels like he’s about to shit out a lung. Finally, his eyes catch sight of a yellow snapback and his heart leaps to his throat. Joey’s walking with his dumb dorky friend, and they’re just in range for Mitch to hear them.

“-so this plebian has the audacity to tell me that his Mox Ruby is the rarest card out there, and-”

“Lewis,” Jonas tries to interrupt.

“I, an intellectual, told him to get real! It’s not even as rare as the Mox Pearl, and it’s nowhere near as rare as the Timetwister, which-”

“Lewis,” he tries again with more force. The ginger nerd shuts his mouth as he continues, “I need to get to science before Mitch does so I don’t have to sit near him.”

Mitch’s heart drops. Well, fucking great. They’re off to a magical start of their first day as soulmates. As the dork with glasses notices him staring his eyes widen with fear. Mitch’s face defensively hardens with anger, and Jonas whips around to look at him with shock, then back to his friend.

“Why didn’t you warn me?! Do you think he heard?!” He hisses, and the ginger nods shakily. The bell rings and Jonas turns slowly, his eyes glued to the floor, not looking up as he passes through the doorway. Mitch follows closely, and his heart races as he notices there are only two desks left in the back of the room, right next to each other. He smiles menacingly down at his match, who is blanching with wide eyes at the desks.

“Take your seats, boys, I want to get started,” Jeff urges.

“You heard the big man, Joey,” he says as he makes his way to the back, plopping into one of the seats and swinging his feet onto the desk while resting one arm behind his head. He uses his free arm to reach to the other desk and pull it towards his, until they’re touching. Jonas hasn’t moved an inch, just staring with unease.

“Everything alright, Jonas?” the teacher questions and he closes his eyes in defeat.

“Just _great,_ Mr. Newman,” he answers in a tight voice. Slowly, head down, he trudges toward the back of the room and slumps into the desk. He flinches as the taller boy slings his arm over the back of his seat, pulling it closer. Mitch is leering down at the freckled boy, trying to ignore how nervous the presence in his chest feels.

“-the project requires two members, so you all should partner up,” Mr. Newman states, and in an instant every student in the room has desperately grabbed somebody. Green eyes look up and around the room frantically, and he watches, knowing that once again Spots is stuck with him. The presence clenches with fear and instinctively his hand flies up to press into his heart, trying to calm it. Joey jumps as his hand flies to his heart as well, and turns to look at him. They stare at each other, unnerved, for a second before they both turn forward hard and drop their hands into their lap. Yeah, that was real cool and suave, turn up the charm just a bit more, Mueller _,_ he thinks bitterly.

He spends the rest of the class picking lazily at his cuticles, staring at Joey out of the corner of his eye, watching his hands scribble notes. He has freckles on his knuckles, small ones. They look like what it feels like to wake up late on a lazy Saturday morning, which is just fucking unfair.

_Kiss ‘em,_ the voice in his head urges and he grimaces. He thought he was done with this douche. But apparently not, as it comments, _He’s blushing._ Mitch turns to look at the boy next to him and he is, his face is lit up red as his fingers grips his pencil so hard his freckled knuckles are paling. He wants to lean over and feel how hot that pink skin feels under his lips.

Oh shit. He snaps his head back forward as he realizes Joey’s probably feeling how worked up he’s getting, and that’s why he’s so red. Now it’s his turn to blush.

When the bell rings, the smaller boy is up in an instant and out the door before he can even take his beaten orange sneakers off the desk. Dejected, he heads to lunch. Javi’s shown up, chattering to Scratch about the upcoming ICP album he’s so hard for. Scratch is savagely tearing chunks off her pizza and gnawing at them with her mouth open. Only Cliff isn’t acting like himself, just staring at his phone with gritted teeth.

“Shit, Joe Dirt, why you so pissed?” Mitch prods. He’s curious, because he hasn’t actually seen Cliff ever get really mad. Or show any emotion, really.

“Kid said some shit t’ ma’ Annie,” the blond grumbles.

“Well let’s whoop his ass then,” Mitch responds lazily. He needs something to take his stress out on anyways. Cliff stands, and the group looks at him.

“His daddy bought ‘im a brand new beamer. I was gonna go ‘n have some fun with it, if y’all wanna help.” Scratch’s open-mouthed bark of a laugh is answer enough, and they all rise to stalk out of the cafeteria. Mitch glances back to Joey’s table, and meets his green eyes. They blow wide open then dart down quickly as he chokes on a bite of sloppy joe. He smiles softly as the presence in his chest feels hot and embarrassed and wonders how long he’d been staring before ducking out the doors after his friends. They’re in their element as they find the BMW in the senior parking lot and take their positions to do what they do best: vandalize.

Javier takes to peeing on all the door handles as Mitch giddily slashes at the tires with his old switchblade. Cliff puts a sharp elbow into one of the taillights, shattering it as Scratch pops the hood and begins to unscrew important bolts and disconnect hoses with giddy laughter. It’s just what he needs, some time to not think about the soulmate thing, just feel good being bad. They’re still laughing when the bell rings and the dickhead comes out and starts to just freak out completely. When he rushes over to them, yelling about lawyers and jail time, Cliff unleashes on him. With one strong right hook landed on the kid’s nose, he’s down, and they pounce on him, landing punches and kicks into his ribs. He curls into a ball on himself and the group breaks into raucous laughter, pulling off him as he snivels under them.

Mitch is riding high until he feels a strong pang of fear in his chest, and he looks around. His eyes land right on Joey, who’s surrounded by his friends and twin.

He looks fucking _freaked out._

His throat feels dry as he swallows, and calls out, “Spots!” His friends have taken the liberty to surround the dorky group, but he’s nervous that’ll just freak them out more. He wants to bark at them to relax, but before he can, Joey’s sister gets up in his face. Well, as much as she can at least. She’s barely an inch taller than her brother.

“Leave Jojo alone, you asshole,” she jabs a finger into his face. He narrows his eyes. Usually no one gets away with insulting Mitch Mueller, but he could never hurt anyone who had the same face as Jonas. He simply pushes her away, smiling lecherously at his match who shrinks slightly.

“Relax, clone. Joey and I got plans to do our science project, don’t we?” Mitch looks pointedly down at him, but he just sputters out something incoherent. With a grin, he slings a long arm around the nervous boy’s shoulders, reveling in the fireworks that explode in his chest as Joey’s side presses into his. He starts to walk, dragging the other boy along.

“If you hurt him-” the clone shouts, and he instinctively tightens his grip as he starts to open his mouth to put her in her place.

“I’ll be f-fine, Sid,” his companion squeaks out, and it startles him. He was... defending him? And he was gonna actually let Mitch take him somewhere? This is good, this is good progress, and he feels giddy despite the ever-fearful presence thrumming in his chest. They walk silently for a few minutes until they’re out of earshot of everyone at the school.

“So poindexter, where you takin’ me to do this project?” Mitch drawls, and Joey’s eyebrows shoot up.

“We’re... we’re doing the project?”

“Well, unless you wanna do somethin’ more _fun,”_

“No, nope, project’s good! Let’s go to the coast where the flood downed some trees.” He says as he shrugs Mitch’s long arm off to drop his skateboard to the ground, lazily stepping on it and coasting alongside the taller boy. His dark curls blow back slightly in the breeze, and Mitch can’t help but stare. Seriously, how was it fair he had those beautiful dark lashes? Even the curve of his forehead is gorgeous with a smattering of freckles concentrated near his hairline. Jonas looks up with wide green eyes.

“What?”

“Nothin.” His reponse is hasty, too hasty, which makes it awkward.

They walk for a while more in silence, not talking until they discover the fenced-off plant. Being the bad influence he is, he convinces Joey to hop the fence and cause some mischief. They’re noticed almost instantly, which is probably his fault for making a stink about getting radioactive-looking sludge on his favorite (only) jeans. Loud voices start to shout to each other and at them, and the sound of an engine revving has his heart beating fast. As they run back to the fence he wraps his arms around the smaller boy and hoists him up. Jonas makes an “eep!” as Mitch grabs at his plush ass, pushing him further up the chain-link fence.

_Holy shit, that little noise was too damn good. He’s got such a fine ass, one that just begs you to bury your face in it-_

“Mitch, come on!”

Shit, right. He clambers up the fence expertly, hopping down and breaking off into a sprint with his soulmate at his side. Something unexpected happens as he pulls Joey into his chest and behind a tree, watching the black car that’s been following them whiz by. The freckled boy pushes him back and, well, he’s expecting that. What he _isn’t_ is the hand that shoots out and grabs his, tugging at him with a feverish whisper, “I know somewhere better to hide!”

Joey isn’t a fast runner, especially when he was winded, so Mitch purposely slows his pace with a dopey smile as he curls his fingers into the other boy’s. They don’t run for long before they’re on a ledge of sorts, overlooking a private beach. It seems the sun is only shining on the small section of sand and glittering off the water.

“’S beautiful,” he marvels but snaps his mouth shut. Wasn’t supposed to say that out loud.

“Yeah. But we, we uh- have to climb down. I don’t think anyone knows about this place so we can hide here,” Jonas responds as he starts the long climb down. Almost at the bottom, the rocks under Joey’s feet crumble and give out. In a panic, Mitch lets go of the rocks to wrap his arms around the smaller boy. Ultimately, he makes the wrong decision, without a grip it sends them falling towards the beach. It’s not a far fall but it still hurts like a _bitch_ when he lands awkwardly on his wrist, but he’s not paying as much attention to himself as he is to his little soulmate he basically used as an airbag in the landing. He scrambles up to a seated position, wrapping a hand around Joey’s arm and rolling him over.

“Shit, fuck, are you okay, Spots? I’m a fuckin’ dumbass, I-” But he’s cut off with a hard shove to the chest.

“D-don’t touch me! Why would you push me?!” Jonas is clutching his hand, using his feet to inch away from him before standing unsteadily.

“What? What the fuck, I didn’t push you!” he protests.

“Oh, I’m _so sure_ ,” the response is spit out sarcastically. “God, I was so stupid to think you’d be any nicer to me! You’re still just a jerk!” It’s breaking his heart, how much his angry voice is wavering.

“I didn’t fucking push you!” he yells, louder than he intended as he stands quickly and takes a step towards the other boy. Jonas ducks, wrapping his hands around his head, waiting for a hit, and it shatters his heart. “What?” he starts, but it sounds bitter, “You think I’m gonna _hurt_ you? I _never_ hurt you Joey.”

“No, you’ve never _hit_ me. You- you’ve hurt me plenty. There’s a difference,” Jonas hisses in response. Mitch’s blood runs cold as he notices tears pricking in the corners of his eyes, either from anger or fear or pain. His shoulders are trembling. “But you know what? You’re no better than Neil and his friends, the one’s who actually _do_ hit me. I was- I tried to be your friend, Mitch. And you decided that you were gonna torment me, every day, for years, just like Neil does. You might think that you’re better than him but you aren’t. You’re just as mean and I- I hate you just as much!” his voice cracks at the end of his tirade and he pushes past the taller boy, making his way back to where they’d just come down from. Mitch watches him climb the entire way, up until he disappears over the ridge and out of his view.

His soulmate hates him.

He shouldn’t be surprised. What’d he think, that Jonas would forgive him instantly for the years of bullying just because they’re soulmates? No way in hell. He’s way too good for that. He’s way too good for Mitch.

He pulls out his phone and dials. Before the person on the line can even get out a “Hey, bro” he spits, “I need a fuckin’ drink Javi. I’m comin’ over and I’m not leavin’ till you gotta carry me out on a stretcher,” and hangs up.

* * *

For the second night in a row, Jonas doesn’t sleep well. He doesn’t regret saying he hates Mitch. He doesn’t, because it was one of the only times he’s been honest in his whole life. Mitch isn’t any better than Neil and the other jocks, they all do the same stuff to him anyways. Their entire collective goal seems to be to make him feel awful about himself. He’s way ahead of them, always has been, so he doesn’t know why they keep having to invent ways to make him hate himself more.

But he can’t forget the face his soulmate made as he’d said it. The voice in his head had yelped, _No!_ as the words left his mouth. But why? For the first time in his life, he had gathered the courage to stand up to a bully. Shouldn't he be riding high? Standing tall? Why the heck won't this guilty feeling in his gut go away?

Because maybe... Mitch didn’t actually think he’d ever hurt him? He couldn’t be that ignorant though. How could he _not know_ all his torment had hurt? It honestly seemed like he didn’t, though, not with how insistent and wounded he’d sounded. There's also the matter of the heavy presence in his chest. He’s never felt the feeling of dread radiating from his heart, which is saying something, because Mitch seems to experience every negative emotion known to man on an almost daily basis.

This one hurts more than all of them combined, because it feels utterly broken.

What’s worse, or maybe better, is that Mitch also skips the next 2 days of school. The presence in his chest is accompanied by a strange feeling of exhaustion. He had no idea how profound the feelings of separation could be. They’re not pining or lonely, he’s just completely drained and his stomach is unsettled.

He can tell when Mitch is back at school, because his body stops aching as he walks through the doors. He sees the taller boy at his locker, leaning against it, not looking at him but instead staring in the opposite direction. He doesn’t seem to notice as Jonas approaches, and jumps when he asks, “Um... can I get into my locker?” The question doesn’t get an answer; he just shifts away from the door with an uneasy look. With a nervous sigh, he asks the taller boy if everything’s okay. The answer surprises him.

“No,” Mitch mutters, and it’s so honest that it gives him goosebumps. If he thinks he hasn’t slept well, Mitch must not have slept at all. His long face is drawn and pale, and the circles under his eyes are so dark they look like bruises. “Some weird shit’s been happenin,’ Joey. Shit’s been flyin’ around my room and outta my hands, doors been slammin’ around me...” he trails off as he realizes how incredulous his companion’s face looks.

“...Okay. I, I’m sorry you’ve been having weird nightmares-”

“No, they’re not nightmares, it’s real,” he says firmly. When Jonas shuts his locker, internally cursing how early the bus has dropped him off and searching for an excuse to get away, he hears a soft voice follow up. “I also... wanna say sorry.”

“It’s nothing.” His throat feels dry. “It’s just a scratch, it doesn’t even hurt,” he says, staring hard at the small scabs on the heel of his palm. He’s startled when big, bruised fingers run softly over the marks then drop down again.

“Not for that. Well, for that, too, but mostly for everything. Like, y’know, all the times I... hurt you. I really didn’t even know I was, ‘cuz I’m a fuckin’ dumbass but I know that ain’t a good excuse or anything,” he babbles on for a bit before taking a breath. “I’m sorry, Joey. I really am. It won’t happen no more,” and he’s staring directly into his eyes. Jonas’ heart starts to thump unevenly as he realizes how fiery and earnest Mitch’s amber eyes are

“Th-thanks...” he starts with a cough. “That means a lot. Seriously.” And it does, because he guesses this might be the first time Mitch has ever apologized to anyone for anything. His breath catches as a soft, gentle smile is cast down at him. One that literally makes his heart hurt.

Oh my god, has Mitch always... looked like this? Had he ever smiled like this? Was this all just for him? He can feel his face burning as he slams his locker shut and quickly squeaks out a lie about getting to class and runs towards the bathroom. He bursts into one of the stalls and lets his head fall into his hands. He needs to stop getting so easily flustered around him. All he did was apologize for being a giant jerk to him for years, not get down on one knee and profess his undying love.

_But that smile_ , the voice in his head reminds him dreamily. He just rubs his eyes hard, ignoring it, and jumps as the bell rings. He dashes to class, uncharacteristically late as he realizes it might actually get easier to hang around Mitch. His honest apology was unexpected but... meaningful. It had even made him just a little bit happy. They might even be able to become friends.

If only he’d known what an understatement that’d been.

As more days pass, lots of confusing things happen. The one that gives Jonas anxiety is the discovery of their powers. Mitch shows him his ability to lift things with his mind, and they discover (one afternoon when Mitch drops from a tree to spook him) that he has lights which reflect his emotions, and some that he can even control, turning them into orbs or ribbons or blades.

At first he’s terrified, convinced that they’ve been poisoned or infected by the toxic waste they fell in at the plant, but Mitch sees it differently. He’s beyond excited about their newfound abilities, always dragging him to the cove or Wackyland to practice harnessing their strength. The first couple of times he halfheartedly protests, but he secretly learns to love the time they spend together, talking and goofing around with their powers. It’s a lot to be keeping secret from Sid, the powers and the newfound fun he’s been having with his soulmate alike. But watching Mitch, his eyebrows furrowed and jaw set in concentration as he lifts Jonas' favorite horse on the carousel upright, lit up in the glow of the stars and ribbons of light, makes him forget about anything else in the world.

Mitch is different when it's just them. He's still foul-mouthed, inappropriate, and immature, but that's just _him._ No, he's different in a way Jonas can't put his finger on. Maybe he isn't so cold when they're together. He doesn't act as tough and unfeeling. He'll pull inchworms out of Jonas' curls and gently place them on the closest tree. He'll talk about his Mom. He doesn't smoke as much, instead occupying his hands with pulling flowers from the ground and tearing the petals off. He'll hum songs as he manipulates rocks with his powers, making them dance in the air. And all of it makes Jonas feel exactly like he did when he matched. He just watches his soulmate, not aware of anything else. Only Mitch.

Much to his embarrassment, he’s also starting to think about Mitch in a very... traditionally soulmate-y kind of way. As in he thinks about him in the shower, at night before he falls asleep, and sometimes even in the morning when he first wakes up. He doesn’t think he’s ever jerked off so much in his life. The taller boy makes it impossible not to think of him, constantly texting him dumb pictures or jokes, slinging arms around his shoulders or running fingers through his hair.

Mitch also spends a good majority of their time at the beach in the water, wet tank top clinging to his thin, toned torso. When he concentrates on lifting something heavy, he grits his teeth, making the muscles in his jaw and neck flex. He makes Jonas ride the Impaler at Wackyland, and Jonas always takes advantage and clings tightly onto Mitch’s bicep, when in reality he was only truly scared the first time. 

Jonas is spending a lot of time thinking about those biceps. In class, as he chews absentmindedly on his pen, he daydreams about the small strip of Mitch's skin that peeks out between the hem of his jeans and his t-shirt which he loves to sneak looks at. The fine light hair which pokes through the tatters in his jeans consumes his thoughts at dinner as he stares down at his plate, chewing and swallowing but never tasting. But the most consuming, the _worst_ , are the freaking smiles.

Mitch has taken to plastering a dumb, sweet, dopey smile on his face whenever he looks at him. It makes his chest feel like fireworks, and he thinks Mitch knows it, too. One night when they sneak off to Wackyland to have fun, he lights up the park in glowing yellow orbs as his tall counterpart starts up his favorite ride, the Scrambler. They squeeze into the same uncomfortable plastic seat and he pulls the lap bar down tight. As they start to pick up speed and fly wildly through the golden light, he can’t contain the laughter that bubbles up from his stomach. Soon he’s in hysterics and so is his soulmate. As the ride reaches it maximum speed, he’s tossed into Mitch’s chest and he feels long arms wind around his body. He looks up, and the sight takes his breath away.

Mitch’s long face is glowing warm under the golden lights, his amber eyes are welled up with tears from all his laughter, and a wide smile sits on his face. His caramel colored hair is blowing back and forth in the breeze as howls out more loud laughter, and Jonas’ mouth goes dry. Mitch’s laugh is authentic, unhinged, unique and a little wild. It’s sharp, but as he inhales breaths between laughs it sounds like sweet music. His laugh is absolutely, undoubtedly orange. Strong arms wrap just a little tighter around Jonas’ soft middle.

Oh heck.

He’s in love with Mitch.

The golden orbs are joined by ribbons of pink light drifting around like clouds. When Mitch brings the ride to a stop, he looks up at the sky, marveling.

“Holy shit, Joey, this is fuckin’ beautiful!” he praises, then looks back down at him with his goofy grin. “You’re like a firefly! My lil’ glowbug!” he finishes with boisterous laughter, and Jonas wonders if this guy knows what he’s doing to his heart.

When he sneaks back into his house, as quiet as he possibly can be, he notices a form at the kitchen table and claps a hand over his mouth to stifle the gasp. As the figure stands, he lets out a shaky breath of relief. Sid’s angry face is illuminated by the moon, and he could honestly kiss her just due to the fact she’s not Dean.

“What’s been going on, Jonas? Where _were_ you? Were you with Mitch?” she hisses, keeping her voice low. He just nods his head towards the stairs, and they climb quietly as his stomach starts to do gymnastics. Should he tell his sister what he realized tonight? It’s not like she’d understand... she might actually be disappointed in him. When the door to his room shuts, she asks indignantly, “Well?”

“Uh yeah, we were at Wackyland,” he says, putting his backpack away.

“What? That old rundown amusement park? That’s- that’s so _stupid_ , Jojo! Do you know how dangerous that is?” her voice is so filled with anger it surprises him. “I understand lying to Dean and Sue that you were at the Halls’ house, but to _me?!_ You used to tell me everything!”

“I knew you wouldn’t be cool with it,” he answers, trying to sound nonchalant. He knows she’s seething, and he feels guilty, because she’s right. He’s been spending less and less time with her.

“So that somehow makes it _okay?_ ”

“I didn’t say that, I just said-”

“Mitch is changing you. For the worse.” Sid states with bitterness. His blood boils.

“L-leave him out of it.”

“I can’t. He’s bad for you.”

“You can’t say that, you don’t know him.”

“I know enough. He’s a bad person. For god’s sake he used to bully the shit out of you, do you really think he’s changed that much?” his twin spits angrily, and before she can continue he spins to look at her.

“You wouldn’t understand, Sid! You’re _MATCHLESS!”_

The second it leaves his mouth he claps a hand over his face. Shoot. He shouldn’t have said that, he didn’t even mean it. He’s just never been that angry before, especially at his sister. The air between them is electrified as a silence seems to engulf the entire house.

“And YOU never used to let that come between us. Like I said, for the worse.” Her voice is icy as she leaves his room, shutting the door softly. Jonas’ lip trembles as he stares at the door, hoping she’ll come back in and he can apologize. But she doesn’t. Instinctively, he pulls out his phone to text Mitch, like he’s gotten used to doing when he’s upset. With a groan he drops his phone to the bed. This is so typically him, relying on Mitch so much. He needs to fix things with his sister himself, like he would have before. But then again, they had never fought before. He rises and tiptoes in socked feet to her room.

“Sid?” he whispers as he cracks the door open.

“Go to bed,” she answers and he flinches.

“Please?” he says, opening the door more. She cocks an eyebrow at him. He crosses the room to where she’s standing and pulls her into a hug. Her pajama tee is soft and smells like detergent, and he exhales against her shoulder, “I’m really sorry, Sidney.” She huffs in response, patting his back.

“I accept your apology. But I don’t forgive you yet,” she says into his hair. He squeezes her once then pulls back, holding her at arm’s length.

“I get it. I didn’t expect you to... But, just know I didn’t mean it. I love you.” He continues after a deep breath, “and that’s why I wanna be able to talk to you about this stuff and not feel, like, judged. You’re the only person I trust to tell this and my life _is_ changing, you’re right, but I don’t think it’s for the worse, because I’m kinda pretty _happy-”_

“You’re babbling,” his twin interrupts with an eye roll, but she’s smiling. “Alright... I guess as long as he makes you happy, I’m cool with him. But the second he hurts you-”

“He won’t.” his voice is confident. Sid stares, studying him.

“Oh, no, _Jojo,”_ she groans.

“What?”

“You’re in love,” she scolds with a grimace. His blush must be answer enough because she coughs out a surprised laugh as she shakes her head. “Ugh, I knew it the second you walked through the door. I can’t believe you’re in love with Mitch freaking Mueller.”

Neither can he. He also can’t believe how nice it feels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary: joey's in love!! this chapter brought to you by the kid who peed on my car's doorhandles in high school
> 
> (embarrassingly, i originally threw in a soulmate for Cliff just so I could validate the garbage gang's realization that Mitch had matched and now I accidentally ship Annie and Cliff f uck me haha...)


	4. Confession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're all just really shooketh over Freddie Mueller, so here's a little smut to hopefully cheer you up

“Oh my baby’s in love!” Henrietta squeals as she pinches Mitch’s cheeks across the visiting room table. “But why ain’t he here with you?!”

“Shit, Ma, c’mon... it’s still early, we’re still just friends,” he says with a stupid smile, because they're actually _friends_. Lately he’s smiled more than he has in his entire life. His mom’s smile drops unexpectedly.

“For fuck’s sake Mitch I love seein’ you and all but when you said you were visiting I was expecting to hear you two’d gone all the way,” she says, unimpressed. His face lights up.

“MA. Shit.”

“Well, what? I ain’t got no teen pregnancies 'n unplanned babies to worry about with you two, and so long as you’re usin’ condoms, bein’ safe-”

“I’m not talkin’ about this here!” Mitch protests, covering his face with his hands.

“Oh, don’t be so bashful!” she coos, grabbing at his wrists. “At this point it’ll be happenin’ in no time!”

“Still not talkin’ about it,” he confirms. “You’re gonna love him, though. He’s perfect.”

“I bet. Y’know Mabel told me that her grandmammy used to say that every freckle was a kiss from an angel,” his Mom sighs dreamily.

“Goddamn, you tellin’ the whole prison about Joey?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. She snickers and says something about not being able to contain her excitement about a future son-in-law, and they laugh together. “How long now?” he asks.

“Less than 6 months,” she says as she leans her chin on her hand. “We’re gettin there. At the rate you’re movin’ with that little doll I’ll be out just in time for the weddin’!” Their conversation is interrupted by a text, which asks Mitch to come to the cove to practice their powers. Henrietta grins knowingly as his smile grows, and before he can even speak, she’s shooing him away with one hand.

“I gotta go. But I’ll be back soon, maybe with him,” he promises hopefully as he stands.

“Bye honey, have fun!” his Mom smiles as she pulls him down to press her usual smooch into his temple. “Use a condom!” she shrieks as he leaves, and he closes the door on her raucous laughter. Mabel shoots him a knowing wink on his way out, and all he can do is stare back disapprovingly.

“How’s Henny?” Scratch asks, tossing her book under the seat as he slides into the passenger seat.

“Doin’ well,” he answers as he lights two cigarettes, their usual routine. As she takes off, rear tires kicking up gravel from the parking lot, he asks, “Can you take me somewhere? It’s a little past the trailer park, near the coast.” She nods happily and they drive in content silence.

She doesn’t even seem unsettled to be dropping him off in the middle of the woods, just waggles her eyebrows and bids him, “Have fun, loverboy!”

He’s trying not to seem too eager but he breaks into a jog, his heart catching in his chest as he sees the cove lit up in yellow, pink, and blue. His fingers are shaking as he clambers down the rocks, and he walks over the sand to Jonas with a spring in his step. The sound of calling gulls and crashing waves is almost deafening, and he realizes Jonas can’t hear him approach. He walks slower, quieter, as the smaller boy pulls out his phone, probably texting him asking where he is. He darts out his arms to squeeze Joey around the middle. The yelp he gets in return makes him bust out laughing as the flash of green lights disappears as quickly as they’d materialized.

“Jeez, when will you get tired of that?” a hand reaches out to push his chest. He smirks as he sees how red his soulmate’s face is, despite the big smile which stretches Jonas’ freckled cheeks.

“Prob’ly never,” he says with a chuckle as Jonas resumes manipulating his lights. “Why’d you text me?”

“I wanted to show you something, didn’t know I was such a _bother,”_  Jonas teases, and he snorts. He throws his arms open, gesturing for him to go on. He watches as Jonas raises his hands, palms open towards the sky. He starts to curl his fingers in and as he does the lights begin to rise up like a tidal wave, forming a quivering wall in front of them which stretches almost all the way down the beach. “Th-throw a rock at it,” he says, his voice wavering with concentration. Using one hand to pluck a stone off the sand, Mitch hurls it at the wall and watches in awe as it shatters into dust. He laughs incredulously and Jonas drops his hands heavily, causing the wall to dissipate into the sea. He smiles down at the smaller boy, whose shoulders are heaving slightly from the exertion.

“Yeah, ‘s pretty damn cool,” he says. “But watch this.” He bites his tongue on concentration and takes a few long strides back, staring at Joey who looks intrigued- and a little nervous. The air between them starts to waver as he raises his hands. The outline of his hands begin to blur, vibrating an almost electric current. Jonas’ breath hitches as his sneakered feet leave the sand, and Mitch furrows his eyebrows in concentration.

He only brings him a few inches off the ground for a couple seconds before lowering him slowly. The lifting part of it is easy, feels like just a bit of pressure at the base of his skull. Nothing like making the rides move at Wackyland or lifting a car. The lowering is much harder than the lifting, because his whole body wants to release and drop Jonas to the sand, but he fights it until his white sneakers are safely on the sand. He smiles victoriously and laughs, but trails off as he looks to the other boy, who’s staring hard at the ground.

“D-don’t do that again,” Jonas says, and his voice sounds weak.

“Why? Oh shit, did it hurt? I’m so sorry-” he begins to panic.

“No. I’m just.” A deep breath. “I’m too heavy. You’ll hurt yourself.” His stomach drops as he recognizes the sadness and embarrassment which thrum off the smaller boy’s presence. It’s the same as he felt two days ago when Joey was in gym class and that pigfucker Neil had called him Mrs. Butterworth.

“No you ain’t, Sp-”

“Stop,” he responds with a groan. “Don’t, don’t pretend like you don’t know I’m fat, it’s condescending.” He may not know what condensation means but he sure as hell knows he isn’t trying to be it. He sets his jaw tightly.

“Don’t act like it’s a bad thing, then.”

“That’s not funny.”

“Good, ‘cuz I wasn’t tryin’ to be.” He responds, and it has Jonas’ fists shaking.

“Well sorry, it’s just that whenever anyone says anything about it, it seems like it’s just to be funny,” he says bitterly. “Isn’t that what you used to think about it?”

“About... what?”

“About the way I look!” he throws his hands up in exasperation. “About my fat thighs! And my stupid freckles, and frizzy hair, and puffy eyes, and-”

“Don’t you fuckin’ _dare_ talk that way about yourself, Joey.” Mitch growls, and his companion’s mouth shuts tightly “I never, ever thought that about you. I never will and I don’t see how anyone ever could. You- you’re- Goddamn it. You’re perfect,” his voice trails off weakly.

“Then... why did you always pick on me so much?”

“Shit. I’ve been.... dreadin’ the day you asked this,” he groans as he sits on a log, cradling his face in his hands. He feels the seat shift as Jonas settles down next to him, staying silent. It remains quiet until he inhales unsteadily, realizing he’s going to have to try and explain himself. Rubbing the back of his neck, staring at the ocean, he starts, “I... dunno. I been thinkin’ about what I’d say when you asked, ‘cuz I knew you would, and I got nothin’... Nothin’ that can make the way I acted seem okay.”

“There has to be a reason,” Jonas prods, but his voice isn’t insistent. It’s gentle.

“Oh, there’s a reason,” he says with an ashamed laugh. _I had no idea I was in love with you._ “But like I said, it still don’t make anything I did any better.” He hopes this is the end of it, but still his soulmate says nothing. “I think... I was... confused, or some shit. You were the first person to be nice to me. When you told me that you liked me I thought you were lyin’ or doin’ it outta pity and it pissed me off. ‘Cuz no one likes me, really. I was a- a shitty, stupid kid who just took out my anger on you because you were sweet, and pretty, and nice to me and I didn’t deserve any of it- I still don’t.” He stops himself before he reveals too much. He’s staring hard at the ocean and his fingers are itching for a cigarette as he can feel green eyes boring into the side of his face. He doesn’t want to look at them, but he’s too drawn. When he finally does they’re filled with sadness. Not pity or disappointment, just genuine sorrow. He gulps and turns back to the sea. Freckled fingers reach up to wrap around his forearm and he shudders.

“You always talk about yourself like that. So negatively. And you act like you’re joking but I don’t think you really are...” Jonas trails off. Mitch snorts.

“Spots, if you think that you hate me, you got no idea. Nobody hates Mitch Mueller like Mitch Mueller,” he attempts to joke, smiling weakly down at the smaller boy. The sadness in his eyes is still shining. “Well, shit, what’d you expect?! I got no redeemin’ qualities! I’m basically just a waste of space that smokes Cliff’s weed and drinks my aunt’s beer and steals kids’ lunch money. Ugly as sin, to boot-”

“I don’t hate you.” The grip on his forearm tightens. “What I said was stupid and out of anger and I wish I could take it back but I can’t. I don’t hate you, Mitch.” He starts to shake his head and protest, but Joey scooches closer to him and says, “No. Maybe I can’t convince you but it’s gotta mean something for me to say it. I don’t hate you. I don’t think you’re a waste of space. And I don’t think you’re ugly.” The last sentence comes out faster than the rest and it makes Mitch flinch.

“Well shit, now who’s bein’ cone-desk-sanding?” He teases, purposefully pronouncing the word wrong to bug him. But Joey’s grip tightens further and his green eyes glow with determination.

“I’m not. I’m being honest. You’re- you’re everything I could’ve ever want- to be! Want to be,” he says hastily. “You’re tall, and you-”

“Stop.”

“-have those long legs,”

“Stop.”

“-and your big arms.” The word big makes his stomach turn. He shakes the smaller boy’s hands of his arm with a jerking motion.

“I told you to fuckin’ _stop.”_

“No!” Jonas protests, and Mitch looks at him with surprise. This is the first time he’s ever stood up to him. “You d-don’t get to talk about yourself like this either. I’ve never, ever seen you eat. I don’t think you sleep enough. You get so tired sometimes you look like you’re gonna pass out. I want you to be okay, to be h-happy. I worry about you because I like you. Not because you’re my soulmate-” the breath catches in his lungs as the word leaves Jonas’ lips, “but because you’re a good person. You are, despite what you think. You love your Mom and Buddy and your friends, you protect me from the bullies, you make sure I’m having a good day and make it better if I’m not, you’re easy to talk to-”

“And you.” He interrupts, his voice barely above a whisper.

“What?”

“I love Ma, and Buddy, and Javi and Scratch and even Cliff,” he sets his jaw hard as he clears his throat and stares at the sand, “and you.” The silence that follows is so painful it nearly knocks him off his ass. He’s convinced he’s gone and done it again, fucked up royally and lost the only good thing in his life.

“You... y-you lo-”

“Mm,” he says, his eyes narrowing at the sand as he furrows his brows. “Think I always have. I n-never stopped thinkin’ about you when I was gone," he clenches his teeth and hisses out a self-depreciating laugh. He drops his head into his hands. "Makes me sound like some kind of fuckin’ freak, some kind of stalker but I think I always knew you were my- my, my-” he can’t stop stuttering, can’t get the word out, so he clamps his mouth shut. The air between them feels cold and stifling, and he can’t bare to look back at Jonas.

“Me too,” Jonas’ soft voice says, and he snaps his head up. “I can’t pretend that I always knew. But now I do. And I f-feel the same. I do. I l-”

“Don’t say it, Joey,” his voice wavers as he pulls back, hating how the green eyes staring up at him widen with dread. “I’m no good for you, I really ain’t. I don’t deserve you, you can’t say it. If I... if I bring you down with me I’ll _never_ fuckin’ forgive myself. Just ‘cuz I’m your soulmate don’t mean I’m any good for you. Don’t say it,” he begs.

“I don’t care if you don’t want me,” his voice is watery. “that doesn’t make me not love you. Because I do. Mitch, I- I- I love you.”

_He loves you_.

And it’s all he’s ever needed. His heart is racing, his entire body feels hot and fiery as he leans closer to Jonas. Mitch is convinced he’s dead. Mitch Mueller has died and by some grace of a higher power has gone to Heaven, because Jonas loves him. He cradles his soulmates face in his hands, staring into his eyes.

“Joey, I’ve wanted you more ‘n more every day of my life since I met you. You... you do? If you do, say it again for me,” he demands. He needs to hear it. He wants to hear it every second, of every day, for the rest of forever. Jonas’ fingers are wrapped around his wrists.

“I- I love you.” It comes out quietly. He doesn’t pull him in for a kiss, but instead he winds his arms around the freckled boy’s soft body forcefully. He pulls Jonas’ head into his neck and wraps him up tightly, pressing their chests together, and for the first time he feels whole. Even when small hands curl around him to stroke at his back, he doesn’t flinch, or worry about if it feels kind of soft or weird or bumpy, he just lets himself enjoy the feeling. He threads his fingers through dark curls, reveling in their softness and clean smell. He doesn’t know how long they sit there, holding each other wordlessly, but a sniffle interrupts his blissful mood.

“You cryin’ Joey? You okay?”

“Yeah, you doofus,” Jonas laughs, using the heel of his fist to wipe away one little tear at the corner of his eye, “I’m just happy.” Mitch’s heart soars. He feels a smile pull his lips tight as he ducks his head to kiss gently against the side of his soulmate’s eye, where the tear had been, letting his lips linger for just a second. He barely has time to pull back before Jonas winds his hands in his plaid sweatshirt to pull him back down, looking up at him with determined embarrassment. “M-more,” he begs.

Mitch snickers but drops one of his hands from the dark curls to Jonas’ freckled chin, lifting his face up softly and bringing their lips together gently. It’s so good, so fucking good he could die right there. And just when he doesn’t think it could get any better, Jonas moans. It’s soft and shy, but it drives him insane, and he takes his soulmate’s lower lip into his mouth and nips at it. Jonas’ arms wind around his neck, securing their bodies and faces together as he drops his hand further, to the plush waist he’s wanted to bite his whole life. As Joey gets braver, he feels his tongue run softly along his lip and he shudders.

Their kisses get more feverish and more desperate quickly, and in no time he’s pushing Jonas gently to lay his back against the log. His soulmates legs are spread wide open and he’s positioned between them, knees resting in the sand. It’s erotic holding him this way and Mitch honestly wants to fuck the absolute life out of him right here, out in the open, on this beach. But as he gets more aggressive, gripping a plush thigh tightly and nudging it open a little more to get in the perfect position to grind down into Joey, a hand pushes gently at his chest. “Wait,” the voice against his lips says hastily, and he pulls back enough to study his soulmate’s face. He doesn’t look upset or freaked out, just a little embarrassed. “I don’t... think I’m ready,” he squeaks out as Mitch pulls him in back up, swinging their legs over the logs again and pulling him into his chest protectively.

“Sorry Spots,” he mumbles earnestly into the side of his face, “I was movin’ too fast. You just got me all worked up,” he finishes with a chuckle.

“I-I know,” Jonas says with a little smirk resting his hand against Mitch’s thigh. “I can tell,” and his hand moves up just slightly. Mitch’s eyebrows shoot upwards.

“Shit... I shoulda’ guessed it. You’re a goddamn tease,” he mutters, and Jonas laughs softly as he leans into his chest. The sky starts to turn from blue to pink, then pink to purple, then purple to navy, until the sky is full of stars and satellites. When he walks Jonas home, Mitch wraps an arm around his shoulders, and a small freckled hand comes up to wrap around his wrist. It stays put, squeezing softly as they walk slowly, just talking quietly, like they’ve known each other for hundreds of years. When he leans down and cranes his neck to kiss Joey goodnight, he can taste the rest of his life on his lips. He lets them linger before pulling back.

“Night, Spots.”

“Goodnight, Mitch.” And as he turns with a smile, he hears, “text me when you get home!” called softly into the darkness after him. But he doesn’t make it home. Because only a couple minutes after he starts walking, Jonas texts him.

**Jonas | 10:49 pm**

**Come back**

His heart leaps to his throat. Without thinking be takes off back towards the Wagner house. What if that absolute dickhole Dean had seen them? What if he’d hurt Jonas, what if he’d _hit him?_ Mitch is in a near murderous rage as he flies up the porch steps, ready to kick the door down, but it opens on it’s own. Jonas’ pink lights illuminate the kitchen at the bottom of the stairs as he throws his arms around Mitch’s neck, pulling him down for a kiss. As they break apart, he’s breathless as he whispers “Come upstairs,” and practically drags him up.

“What the hell’s goin’ on? Had me fuckin’ worried,” Mitch manages to blurt out once the door to his room is closed.

“Sue and Dean are in Peach Valley with her sister for tonight, and Sid and the foster kids are asleep so I thought we could... spend some more time together.” Jonas says into his prickly chin, gripping his sweatshirt hard. He starts to snicker at his soulmate, but he freezes as the presence in his chest glows... hot. Needy. It makes him gulp.

Sure, he’s been insanely horny and has wanted Jonas for years, but he knew they wouldn’t go far on the beach. But now, here in Joey’s room, just the two of them, it’s starting to get _really real_ and it makes a nervousness bloom in his gut.

“I don’t... I can’t... I don’t wanna go all the way,” Jonas whispers softly, “but I just thought-”

“Shit, Joey, god no. I’m not gonna try and fuck you or anything, I ain’t a monster,” he responds nervously. He brings his hands to Jonas’ dark curls and begins to stroke through them softly. “I know I fucked up on the beach, but don’t think I ever won’t stop if ya tell me to. Anything you don’t wanna do, you just tell me. We don’t even have to do anything, we can just kiss, or-”

“I want to suck you off,” his sweet voice says so hastily it all sounds like one long word, and Mitch freezes. There’s no way this is his shy, embarrassed, inexperienced soulmate. He drops his hands from Jonas’ hair down to his shoulders, and pulls him back slightly to look at his face.

“Are you... are you sure?” he asks incredulously, despite the fact that his heart is singing.

“Positive. But I-I’ve never done anything, and I don’t really know how...” he trails off, biting his lip.

“Well... want me to show you?” Mitch says with one eyebrow raised. His voice comes out gruff and needy, but he’s not teasing. The lecherous Mitch is gone; he has no place here. He’s going to let himself be totally open, even if it kills him. With the way Jonas pulls him down into the hottest kiss he’s ever experienced, he thinks he might actually die of heart failure. They cross the small room clumsily, lips locked and hands roaming over each other, before they collapse onto Joey’s bed. Mitch doesn’t even cringe when Jonas’ hands sneak up the back of his shirt and run softly over his muscles, he just wants to feel bare skin against him. He nearly passes out as he pulls Jonas out of his t-shirt, because his body is a masterpiece, an absolute work of art.

“Better than I ever coulda imagined,” he groans softly, staring at the dark freckles and pale stretch marks, letting his eyes travel upwards towards the dark pink nipples which grace his chest. Jonas is tugging at the hem of Mitch’s tank top, and he sheds his sweatshirt and shirt quickly to appease him.

When he’s halfway out of his top he hears his soulmate inhale sharply, and his stomach turns. But as he shakes the rest of the fabric off and looks down, Joey seems like he’s in awe. His jaw is slack and his eyes are half-lidded, and his freckled fingers tremble as they rise to stroke down Mitch’s happy trail towards the hem of his pants. Without hesitation Mitch unbuttons his jeans and with a brave breath in, shoves them down slightly. The high pitched whine that comes from Jonas’ throat is like a drug, he’s already addicted and he needs more. “Like what you see?” He growls, and ducks down to lick at the freckles along his collarbone. He hears more whines and moans above him as he sucks and bites at the skin all over his chest, shoulders, and neck. He moves his face down to Jonas’ nipple and slowly brings it into his mouth. He runs his tongue cautiously over it once, feeling the hard numb against his tastebuds, waiting for a reaction. Jonas throws his head back and tangles his hands into Mitch’s hair, bucking his hips up slightly.

“Oh Mitch, oh my god,” his voice is shaky and desperate and it lights him on fire. He starts to let himself get ruthless, sucking and biting on Joey’s nipples as he slips his hands into the back of his khakis to squeeze his ass. He lets out a rough laugh as small hands make their way down and Jonas shoves his own pants off, toeing them off his ankles and taking one of his socks with them. Mitch is suddenly aware of how tight his pants feel around his thighs, and he pulls off his soulmate to sit on the edge of the bed and fumble his jeans off.

Without the heat of Jonas’ body and the feeling of his breath on his lips, Mitch suddenly feels awkward and exposed as he yanks his jeans off his ankles and tosses them to the side as Jonas flings his other sock across the room. They pause for a moment, and Mitch takes the opportunity to slip off the bed and drop to his knees. He grips his soulmate’s calves and pulls him forward so his gorgeous freckled legs are hanging over the bed. Jonas is up on his elbows, staring down nervously.

“Tell me if you want me to stop, Joey baby,” Mitch says, and Jonas’ body shudders at the mention of his name. He takes it as an invitation, dropping to nuzzle the bulge in his boxers, kissing the outline gently and letting his tongue slip out to press against it. He slips one hand under Jonas’ ass, thumbing gently against his balls in his boxers as his other hand works the elastic waistband down to reveal his leaking tip. With a wink he licks slowly along the slit, his own dick twitching at the taste of Jonas’ precum.

The moan above him is so good he can’t take it, he pulls Joey’s plaid boxers down and off his legs, running his fingernails over the lattice of white stretch marks on his perfect thighs. Gripping Jonas’ cock around its base, he looks up into those gorgeous green eyes and takes it into his mouth. He groans slightly at the sensation of Joey’s warm hardness between his lips, and greedily he sinks down until the entire length is in his mouth. His soulmate’s back arches almost violently as he bucks his hips. He brings one large hand up to press into Jonas’ stomach, keeping him still as he begins to bob his head slowly, up and down over the dripping, twitching cock in his mouth. He revels as moans turn to sobs as he quickens his pace. For fun, he picks up the freckled calves again and drapes them over his shoulders, becoming weak at the sight of Jonas’ knees up near his chest as he feels heels press hard into his back.

When it all becomes too much, he yanks his own orange boxer briefs down just enough to free his aching dick, pumping it desperately. Mitch can feel Jonas getting close, _so close_ to busting in his mouth and he wants to take it all, taste his warm cum, and he quickens the pace of his own fist. The fingers tugging at his hair and the thighs pressed against the sides of his face are driving him mad, and that combined with the way Jonas is crying out his name is sending him towards the edge. That is, until he feels Jonas’ hands start to push his head away. He pulls off immediately, bringing his hands to stroke the freckles on his thighs, panicking just a little.

“Wait, don’t c-cum, I still wanna s-suck you...” Jonas says, biting his lip. Mitch just nods, gripping his thighs tighter.

“Anything you want,” he breathes, “but lemme make you cum first. C’mon, baby. Spread these pretty thighs a ‘lil for me.” Jonas complies, his legs falling open languidly as he drops back onto the bed, tossing his head from side to side as Mitch dives right back in. It’s not long before those thighs are pressing hard into Mitch’s face and starting to tremble, accompanied by near-pained whimpers.

“I’m- I’m-” he tries to spit out, but he can’t before he’s spilling into Mitch’s mouth, his cock twitching as each warm rope of cum shoots onto his tongue. The cries and noises he makes as he orgasms are music to Mitch’s ears. He keeps his mouth locked on Jonas until he’s all spent. He pulls off with a swallow, then continues licking gently to not miss a drop. Jonas’ mop of curls raises from the bed as he looks down and watches, a thin sheen of sweat over the blush illuminating the bridge of his nose. Mitch smiles softly up at him, petting his thighs. He’s still achingly hard but his soulmate looks so blissed out, so beautiful that he’d be happy to just wrap him up in his arms and let him sleep.

Jonas seems to have other plans.

“Come here,” he sighs, and Mitch stands shakily, discarding his boxers as he moves onto the bed. He uses one arm to prop his head up while running his other hand over Jonas’ chest. He buries his face into his dark curls.

“Good?” he asks, and Jonas just nods. He rises to kiss him, but chokes out a shocked breath as Jonas pushes his shoulder hard, knocking him back onto the bed. Freckled thumbs stroke softly over his hipbones as Jonas sits up between his legs with a small smile. He leans up to plant a kiss on Mitch’s chest, then another a little lower, then another. Mitch lets his eyes flutter shut and roll back. He has no idea where Jonas learned this, but all he can do is thank god that he did.

The kisses get lower until Jonas is eye level with Mitch’s hefty cock. Hesitantly, his fingers reach up to stroke it once, and his eyes blow open as it twitches under his fingertips. His sweet tongue darts out to lick his lower lip and he looks up, his lips so close that Mitch can feel his breath against his shaft.

“T-tell me if I’m doing it right... okay?” he squeaks. Mitch’s eyebrows knit together.

“If you’re nervous, you don’t gotta-” but his own gasp cuts him off as his soulmate lays his tongue flat over his tip, lapping at his precum. He continues with gentle licks until, with a breath and a look up at Mitch, he takes just the head into his mouth. Mitch can’t help the strangled groan which escapes him. It’s like a wet dream come true, watching Jonas try to find a good rhythm of stroking his shaft and sucking his head. He dips down a little further but triggers his gag reflex, choking out a cough around Mitch’s length. Hurriedly, he tangles his fingers in Jonas' hair and uses his curls to pull his face up slightly. “Don’t try so much, just do what you were doin.’ Felt amazing,” he assures and strokes his hair encouragingly.

For a bit, Jonas is experimental, seeing what licks elicit a groan and how fast he has to suck to make it twitch. Slowly, he manages to coordinate the bobbing of his mouth and his strokes, and it has Mitch's muscles tensing. His mouth is so warm, so wet, and each little mewl that Jonas lets out around his dick has his heart skipping a beat. Mitch hisses through gritted teeth, “’S good, really good. Shit. Baby, y’re gettin’ me close.” Jonas’ middle lights up green, barely even noticeably, but nonetheless Mitch immediately grasps his chin and moves his head up, pulling his mouth off his cock.

“W-what’d I do?” he says softly

“I don’t wanna finish in your mouth, it’s your first time. Stroke me off,” he begs, twining his fingers in Jonas’ curls again. He watches through half-lidded eyes as freckled fingers start to stroke him nice and fast. He’s good at this. Really good. Too good, Mitch realizes as he feels a tightness building up in his pelvis. “That’s it,” he gasps, “just like that. Fuck, baby, so fuckin’ good, gonna make me cum.” The hand on his dick picks up its pace and it feels like all the air has been knocked from his lungs. His eyes want to flutter closed but he can’t tear them away from Jonas’ concentrated face, the lip he’s biting on, but especially the fact that-

Oh shit.

Jonas’ free hand is behind him, and his shoulder is moving slightly. His spent cock is rock hard again, bobbing between his legs as he strokes Mitch quickly. His face is red, and little whimpers are escaping him as he plays with his perfect ass.

“Fuck, are you...?” Mitch can’t get the question out or it’ll make him cum. He’s determined not to finish until Joey gets off a second time, but it’s getting harder and harder to hold back as his soulmate starts to cry out his name again.

“Oh, Mitch,” Jonas whines, moving back against his hand slightly. He can only imagine how his ass feels around his fingers, how hot and _tight-_

“Shit!” he barks, his cum splattering against his stomach as his dick jerks wildly in Jonas’ fist. Jonas lets out a cry as he cums his second load onto Mitch’s thigh. Jonas’ clouded green eyes are locked on his as they ride out their orgasms, panting, groaning, shaking. T

he air is thick and hot in the room as they breathe heavily, coming down from their high. Mitch can’t help but bring a hand to Jonas’ face, cradling his cheek and softly running his big thumb over his eyebrow. They stare at each other for a moment, faces red and plastered with smiles, until Jonas stands on shaky legs, getting tissues from his side table and handing a couple to him. As he cleans his stomach off, Jonas sheepishly blurts out apologies as he cleans his own sticky cum from Mitch’s thigh.

Mitch only rolls his eyes in repsonse, reaching out to grip Jonas chin and pull him in for a kiss. It’s gentle, and slow, and it makes his heart squeeze as Jonas pulls back with a soft smile. He rises to toss their used tissues into the garbage, then moves to his dresser. He pulls out a tee and some soft looking shorts and he tosses another t-shirt to Mitch. When Jonas turns away, he buries his face in it, breathing in his soulmate’s scent before pulling it on. It’s a little short, falling a couple inches above the band of his boxers, but he doesn’t mind as Jonas shuts off the light and wriggles into bed next to him, pulling the covers around them tightly. He wraps his arms around the small form next to him, curling around him protectively while planting kisses on his forehead, inhaling the scent of Jonas’ curls.

“Sue and Dean won’t be back until tomorrow afternoon,” Jonas says softly into the dark. He just smiles against his face in response, pulling him in closer. Within minutes, Joey’s breath is even and slow against his chest. He doesn’t stop stroking his hair, though, until his eyelids start feeling heavy and the warmth underneath the covers engulfs him.

For the first time in his life, Mitch gets a good night’s sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter will be the conclusion, thank you always ALWAYS for sticking around and reading my dumb fic, it means the world to me!!


	5. Forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is it, the conclusion! i feel emotional, this fic is my little wee baby and it's all grown up!
> 
> thank you as always for reading!!

Jonas wrings his damp hands nervously. He feels jittery in the backseat of Scratch’s car, but it’s far from the normal fearful jitters he gets from her appalling driving. He catches Mitch’s eyes in the rearview mirror and smiles sheepishly. A large hand drops, palm up and facing backward, into the backseat area and Jonas hastily wipes his own palm against his pant leg before taking it. The big, bruised fingers curl to engulf his own freckled digits. It’s reassuring, but they still don’t stop trembling.

He has no idea why he’s so nervous. Mitch has assured him time and time again that this is the one person who’s guaranteed to love him, accept him, be excited about he and Mitch’s relationship. But he can’t shake the nervous feeling in his gut. He wasn’t even this nervous to tell Sidney, his own twin sister.

That also may have been because he didn’t have time to tell her anything before she walked in on them one afternoon after school. Jonas had jumped up from his knees as Mitch furiously tried to shove himself back into his pants, both of them bright red. Sidney had pinched her eyes shut and raised her hands incredibly slowly as she let out a long sigh.

“Nnnnnnnnnnnnope,” she said in monotone as she stepped backwards, using one hand to close the door and the other to cover her already closed eyes. That night when Jonas had gathered the courage to talk to her, she just shook her head quickly, saying, “You and Mitch are together, I got that much. Anything more- I don’t wanna know, I never wanna know. You promise to lock your door and I’ll promise to knock.” The agreement has worked out pretty well in the weeks after that incident.

Weeks. He’s been with Mitch for weeks. He’s Mitch’s boyfriend. The title makes him blush. There really isn’t any reason to be embarrassed anymore, though. It seems everyone in Sellwood (aside from Dean and Sue, thank god) have figured out Jonas and Mitch without either of the two saying a word to anyone.

Neil and the other lacrosse players have backed off him almost completely; they haven’t whispered a cruel word or laid a hand on him. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Augustus had called him a “queermo” a couple weeks back and ended up in the emergency room with 7 broken fingers, which Mitch still swears he didn’t cause- the boy simply ‘had an accident.’

Only days after he and Mitch had gotten together, Cliff’s soulmate Annie had slipped him a pack of gum in physics as they worked on a lab together. He looked at her in confusion, but she’d just wrinkled her nose with a sympathetic smile. “They never know their breath tastes like smoke,” she’d said softly, then smiled a little bigger as he blushed red, putting her orange and black braces on display. He had just taken it and tossed it into his bag, muttering out an earnest but embarrassed thanks. He had no clue how she’d known. There was no way Cliff had said something to her, because he knew Mitch hadn’t told his friends anything about them yet.

Maddie and Lewis had both seemed kind of freaked out. Maddie seemed equally disturbed that Jonas’ soulmate was a man and that the man was Mitch. Lewis was definitely more freaked out by who it was, but that was only after Jonas had explained to him almost 30 times that just because he found guys attractive that, no, _he doesn’t want Lewis._

Even Carmen had turned around in history class two days ago and whispered, “Oh my god, Jonah, what you and Mick are doing is _sooo_ brave! You guys are super cute together!” She had finished by squeezing his wrist with a sugary sweet smile, but his heart didn’t thud like it used to at her touch. He had just smiled tightly in response.

The bullies avoiding him is nice, but the rest of the attention makes him uncomfortable. When Mitch drapes his arms around him or nuzzles his hair Jonas can always hear the shocked murmuring around them and feel the startled stares against the back of his neck.

But when Mitch dares to steal a hot, quick kiss when the hallways are empty or texts him ‘lov ya spots’ in the middle of class, it all seems to melt away.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts as Scratch slams on the brakes, her tires skidding slightly in the gravel of the parking lot. He gulps at the washed-out, crumbling brick exterior in front of them. The side of the building reads, ‘Sunshine State Women’s Facility,’ or at least he thinks it should. All of the ‘n’s and most of the vowels are missing, which makes it almost unreadable. His eyes scan the yard, filled with weights, benches, various pieces of sports equipment and tables, all surrounded by a high fence topped with rings of menacing barbed wire. He feels Mitch squeeze his hand and realizes he’s had his soulmate’s hand locked in a death grip. He tries to loosen his fingers slightly but finds them frozen.

“Have fun you crazy kids! Come back before midnight or this beautiful hunk a’ junk turns into a pumpkin!” Scratch yelps, cackling at her own joke as she fishes a pile of papers from under her seat. The papers are actually a ragged book, Jonas realizes as Mitch tugs at his hand, and he steps out of the car. His legs feel like jelly on the gravel as he’s led to the front door.

They walk through two doors into a small waiting room area, which is oddly... cozy. There’s a couple seats which have obviously been there since the late 80’s, and the wallpaper is faded and peeling, but it smells like cinnamon and there’s a bookshelf stocked with magazines and novels with worn bindings. A loud squeal interrupts his analysis of the room and his eyes land on a smell desk area protected by thick glass. A woman, probably in her mid 50’s, is flapping her hands excitedly as she wiggles out of her seat and disappears. She reappears quickly, scampering through a heavy sounding door and rushing towards them. Her wild blonde curls bounce on top of her head as her plump face pulls into a wide smile. Her pink lipstick is shockingly bright when Jonas sees it close up, and she stops just in front of him.

“Oh, Mitch sweetie, is this him?!” She prattles excitedly, and her southern twang is sweet as honey. Her brown eyes are locked on him and he swallows, smiling nervously.

“Mabel, this is Joey. Joey, meet Mabel, the light a’ this place,” Mitch motions between them. She looks at him with the warmest smile he’s ever seen and opens her arms.

“Darlin’ it’s just wonderful to meet you! Gimme some sugar, I’m a hugger!” She squawks. He actually has to lean down slightly to wrap his arms around her soft body. She squeezes him tight and he could almost laugh as he realizes how much she smells like a pecan pie. She pulls back but keeps her grip on his arms. “Oh my stars. You are just as pretty as a peach. I reckon I’ve heard about you so much I could tell ya your own life story, deary! I swear, all a’ us were in here waitin’ for Mitch to get the gumption to tell you he love-”

“Mabel!” Mitch yells, his face burning red. She looks at him with a disapproving frown and pulls a hand away from Jonas’ arm to wag her finger at Mitch.

“Hush your mouth, Mitchell Mueller, or I’ll tell your mama to hush it for ya! You interrupted my train of thought, boy,” she looks back at Jonas with a sly wink, “but I bet that’s a good thing. My, I can sure yap, and I bet you’re fixin’ to meet Henny! I’ll buzz y’all through.” She grins at him and retreats back through the heavy door. Her singsong voice pages, ‘Henrietta Snyder, your gentlemen callers await,’ and a loud buzz makes Jonas jump.

Mitch leads him through the heavy door, under an intimidating metal detector, and through yet another door. They enter a room which is much less cozy than the waiting room, with graying white walls, white tile floors, and white metal tables. His heart starts to thump uncomfortably fast. Should he sit? Stay standing? Did he choose the right shirt? What if Mitch’s mom thinks he’s a nerd, or stuck up, or is disappointed about his weight, or-

Mitch squeezes his hand, looking down at him with one of his signature lovesick smiles at the same time as he hears, “Oh my friggin’ GAWD!” He looks towards the sound and nearly passes out, because he thinks he may be in the Twilight Zone.

An honest-to-goodness female version of Mitch is running towards them. They have the exact same emotional amber eyes, toothy smile, and long, sharp face. Unlike Mabel, Henrietta doesn’t stop; she simply runs into him full force. It’s a good thing she’s thin and spindly like her son, or Jonas would be flat on his back when she hits his chest and wraps him in an enormous bear hug. His face is squished against her chest, and she smells pleasantly like generic detergent and hair bleach. She strokes his hair softly, just like Mitch does, and squeezes him tighter with an excited noise. He winds his arms around her thin frame and she kisses his temple before releasing him. She turns to Mitch and gives him the same treatment, a gigantic hug and sticky lipstick kiss to the side of the head, which has him wiping it away with the back of his hand. She turns back to Jonas with a wild grin.

“Shit, I guess that counts as a formal introduction, right?” she snickers and Jonas can’t help but smile back at her. She’s so much like Mitch, only her Boston accent seems to separate how they speak. “Come and sit down, honey, don’t be shy!” she wraps his hand in hers and pulls him towards a sterile table. To his surprise, she plops down in the seat next to him, forcing Mitch to take a seat on the opposite side of the table.

“Guess I’m not sittin’ with Joey,” Mitch grumbles, but he’s grinning.

“Shut your trap. He’s always yours but today he’s mine!” Henrietta counters, keeping her hand in his.

“I-it’s really great to finally meet you, Mrs. Snyder,” he says shakily once he finds his voice. She throws her head back with a laugh.

“Oh sweetie, don’t make me feel old now. You can call me Henny if you want, but I’d rather you call me Mom,” she says with a waggle of her eyebrows. Her grin is so contagious Jonas can’t seem to stop himself from smiling.

“Okay,” he says, but she looks at him expectantly, so he continues, “uh, M-mom.” Her squeal is so loud it’d probably hurt his ears if they weren’t already ringing.

He just called someone ‘Mom.’

She squeezes his arm with her free hand and snuggles into his shoulder.

“Ma, you’re embarrassing, quit buggin’ him,” Mitch is covering his red face with both hands, but Jonas can see a smile beneath them.

“I could be so much worse, Mitchy, I could tell him all the sappy stuff you said about him!” she taunts, and Mitch drops his hands. He actually looks kind of nervous.

“You wouldn’t dare,” he says, but sounds unsure.

“Try me,” she says slyly, her eyes narrowing as her smile turns wicked.

“Oh, c’mon, I wanna hear it, _Mitchy,”_ Jonas teases, and Mitch blanches. Henrietta cackles in response.

“That’s my boy! Oh GAWD you are just the cutest thing I eva’ seen!” she coos, untwining their fingers to bring her bony hands to his face, cradling his cheeks. He blushes furiously and stutters, unsure how to respond, but she continues before he can think of anything. “I’ll tell you, I knew you’d be pretty, Mitch made sure to tell me that plenty-” an aggravated groan interrupts her, “but I didn’t know you’d be this handsome. I mean Jesus, Mitchy you got good taste! Eyes like Jolly Ranchers! Skin like a doll, too. Use moisturizer sweetie, people in here would kill for skin like that!” Jonas is unsure of just how serious she is. He blushes deeper as words escape him entirely.

“For fuck’s sake you’re gonna scare him away,” Mitch says gruffly, looking truly flustered and embarrassed. She glances at her son but looks back at Jonas quickly, her face painted with an apologetic smile.

“Oh, I prob’ly am. I’ve just been _so excited_ to meet you, honey,” she says sincerely. Jonas steels himself for a barrage of questions, which he’s gone over for days since Mitch invited him to visit her. He’s rehearsed what he’ll say about himself at least 70 times, chosen the words carefully, but Henrietta doesn’t ask the same boring parent questions every other Mom does. She asks them about their project, about Cliff and Annie, whether Javier has a real girlfriend yet, and if Scratch fixed the transmission on her car. She wants to know what music he likes, and where he learned to skateboard, and why cinnamon buns are his favorite breakfast food. She doesn’t ask about his family, but her eyes light up when Sidney’s name comes up. “That’s your sister, right?” she says confidently, seemingly proud that she’d remember that little detail Mitch had mentioned.

“Yeah, my twin.”

“Oh!” she exclaims excitedly, “That’s amazing! You two must have your own language right? Or be able to talk to each other with just your brains or somethin’ like that, huh?” Jonas smiles in response.

“Basically,” he responds with a laugh, but his smile fades slightly as he says, “this has all been kind of a lot for her though... she’s- she’s uh, matchless, so she doesn’t really understand...” he clamps his mouth shut. He’s suddenly hot as he realizes just how personal that is to say the literal _first time_ he’s ever spoken to Mitch’s mom. But to his surprise, Henrietta hums sadly, curling her fingers around his forearm on the table and stroking his skin with her thumb.

“I bet that’s hard,” she muses, and he finds himself nodding in response. “But now you two are more alike than you’ve eva’ been. The only thing that makes matchless people different is the whole color thing, y’know, the soul love stuff too, but it ain’t like she can’t find love. She’s always been able to do that. So this has made you two less different, and she’ll see that soon. Was probably just real surprising that you had such a quick change of heart about my baby, once she wraps her head round that she’ll be alright,” she says, her voice wise and confident.

Jonas is silent.

He understands now why Mitch says she’s the smartest lady he’s ever met. She seems to know how to sort out all the confusing thoughts in his head and effortlessly organize them into perfectly sound advice. She also seems to truly believe it, which is the thing that strikes him the most, because it makes him believe it too. Somewhere, deep in his gut, something hurts. Henrietta’s been through so much, lost so many people and endured so much tragedy. And still, she’ll take her time to reassure him about he and Sidney’s seemingly irrelevant problems without a hint of judgment in her voice.

He feels a little overwhelmed, sitting in a prison, being given guidance by a convict. He’s here with two people who are the type he’s been told to avoid his entire life. But he senses something in his heart which he never has before as she reassuringly pats the freckles on his wrist.

He feels... cared about. Sure, Mitch and Sid care about him, but this isn’t like that. It’s different in a way he can’t place or understand. It makes his eyes hurt a little bit, because it feels _really nice._ Before he can start getting emotional, Henrietta lights up with a gasp and launches into a story about one of her friend’s daughters. It’s actually about Mabel’s daughter, something that had happened at the girl’s prom, but Jonas is more enthralled watching her tell the story than listen to its content. She talks animatedly with her hands, just like Mitch. When they all burst into laughter at the end of the story, he’s overcome with emotion. He places the feeling.

For the first time in his life he has a mom.

He grits his teeth hard to keep from lighting the room up bright pink.

He’s been so busy staring at Henrietta that he hasn’t looked over to Mitch in a while. When he raises his eyes, he’s staring back at him with such adoration and it makes him blush. He feels a certainty he never has before. The feeling that blooms in his stomach is exhilarating.

This is _exactly_ where he’s supposed to be.

He loses track of time as he gets lost in Henrietta’s stories. Somehow, they’ve made it to the time when Mitch was 7 and got a dime stuck up his nose, and there are actual tears streaming down his face as he tries desperately to breathe through his laughter. Mitch looks mortified, but each time he tries to interrupt his Mom she protests, “He was gonna have to learn sometime!” He’s wiping his cheeks and letting out a few last breathy giggles when Mitch reaches across the table and knocks his fist against his fingers.

“We gotta get goin, Spots, it’s been almost 2 hours and Scratch must be insane by now,” he prods gently. Gosh, had it really been that long? It’d felt like only minutes. He stands begrudgingly, and watches as Henrietta pulls Mitch down for a hug and leaves him with another kiss to the temple. She turns her attention to him and pouts, opening her arms. He gladly steps into them, squeezing her as the winds her wiry arms around him.

“Thanks for everythin, honey,” she whispers into his ear before she smacks a kiss onto his cheek. He’s confused when she pulls away from him, crossing her hands over her heart as the surveys them. Her eyes look a little watery.

“My boys... come back soon, hm?” They both nod simply in response, and watch as she ducks back through the door and down a short hallway, and just like that she’s out of sight.

Jonas’ heart is singing as they walk out with a goodbye to Mabel, who singsongs back a farewell as they exit to the parking lot. Scratch is vibrating with excitement as they take their seats and is chattering about finishing her book before his butt even hits the seat. She gushes over the ending the entire way back to the trailer park, where she comes to a screeching halt outside Lorraine’s trailer. Mitch fishes a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and tosses it to her, and she smiles back.

“Aw you shouldn’t have, loverboy!” Mitch rolls his eyes but stretches his hand out to Jonas, helping him from the backseat as their wild companion calls, “buh-bye, Dotty!” and speeds away before he’s even fully out of the car.

When they enter the trailer it’s quiet and empty, and Jonas loosens a little. Lorraine is a fine lady; she’s just always entirely plastered when he sees her. She usually gets his name wrong, and has taken to calling him “Jo-nads” because it makes her laugh. He can’t help but snort when they make it to Mitch’s room.

“What?” the taller boy asks.

“You cleaned up for me,” he taunts, and Mitch flushes, but smiles back.

“Hell, I had to. Classy guy like you deserves better’n this pig sty,” he walks to his bed and rubs Buddy’s belly, awakening the sweater-clad... thing from it’s slumber. Jonas stays standing, still unsure of how he feels about the little animal, who chatters contently and skitters off the bed into the living room through his legs. Mitch rises and closes the door, engulfing Jonas in the process. His heart thumps as the long arms which cage him in freeze. He’s staring into Mitch’s chest, not daring to look up. They’re frozen for a few short second before he slowly raises his eyes. The wicked smile being cast down at him makes his breath catch in his throat.

In a flurry of action, he desperately he tries to duck away from Mitch’s arms but he isn’t fast enough; they ensnare him and yank him off his feet, tossing him carefully onto the bed. Surprisingly, the usually bare mattress is covered by a clean-ish looking sheet, and even has some blankets on it. He throws one over himself to hide from Mitch, whose long fingers are prodding into his sides, finding all the ticklish areas as he laughs manically above him.

“Lemme see your cute face, ya little twerp!” he exclaims as he tries to pull the blanket off, but Jonas clings to it with all his strength as he yelps back “No!” through his uproarious laughter. With a hard yank, the blanket is gone and he’s exposed. Mitch growls with a wild grin and Jonas actually _shrieks_ out a laugh as his boyfriend dives down to grab him around the middle and laughs goofily into the crux of his neck, securing him tightly in his arms. Jonas goes limp and gives up his fight as his chest heaves with heavy breaths, recovering from his laughter as Mitch tangles their legs together. He brings his hands to Mitch’s hair and begins to run his fingers through the thick mess. They fall into a content silence.

“I really love your mom,” he says after a couple quiet minutes.

“Told ya,” Mitch mumbles against his chest, “knew she’d love you too. Not as much as me though,” he says, looking up with a grin. Jonas rolls his eyes, but smiles back. He cranes his head down and nudges his soulmate with a discontent noise. Mitch stretches up slightly to press their lips together chastely before he sits up and pulls him into his lap, kissing him again. It’s much deeper this time, and he feels a little lightheaded. “How could she not love you? You’re perfect,” Mitch mumbles against his lips as he strokes his thighs softly.

His face begins to burn as their lips meet again. Mitch’s warm tongue prods against the seam of his lips and his mouth falls open to grant his boyfriend access. His whole body is burning as big hands move from his thighs to his butt, gripping it firmly with a squeeze. Their kisses get sloppy and needy fast as Mitch leans back and pulls Jonas onto his lap to straddle him. He breaks their kiss to attack his freckled neck, nipping gently at the skin.

When Mitch’s hot tongue runs over the hollow divot at the base of his neck, Jonas can’t hold back a shaky moan. The rumbling chuckle he receives makes him shudder as he feels his shirt being tugged at, so he raises his arms and allows Mitch to pull it off. The second he’s freed from the fabric he feels a hot mouth engulf one of his nipples, sucking it to a stiff little peak.

He’s whining and grinding his ass wildly down as his chest is attacked. Mitch groans as he moves his big hands back down to Jonas’ plush ass, but this time he roughly pushes his hands past the khakis and boxers. Jonas can’t help but gasp as Mitch’s short nails sink into his bare ass. He rubs circles on it, squeezing, and uses his position as leverage. He lays flat on his bed, tossing his head back and spreading his legs a bit as he sinks his nails into the flesh of Jonas’ ass and bucks his hips up. A yelp leaves Jonas’ mouth as he’s dry humped, watching the muscles in Mitch’s jaw tighten from where he’s bouncing. The thrusts against his backside are fluid and rhythmic, and the sensation makes his eyes roll back in his head.

Oh my god, he wants this so badly. If Mitch keeps this up Jonas is going to finish in his pants, but he can’t bear to ask him to stop. When long fingers slide around the curve of his ass to pull his cheeks apart slightly he can’t support himself anymore, and he collapses into his boyfriend’s chest, burying his face in his t-shirt.

“Feel nice, baby?” Mitch mutters into his hair, quickening the pace of his hips and gripping Jonas’ ass even harder, surely leaving bruises. Sometimes, when he’s alone, Jonas will look in the mirror at the hickeys and fingerprints which mar his thighs and chest and press on them to remind himself of the mouth that left them. He can only moan in response. With every thrust he feels a rock solid bulge press needily into his clothed ass, and soon he can’t take it anymore.

“Oh my god. I want you inside me,” he says, gasping. Mitch stops his hips but keeps his fingers firmly on Jonas’ ass as he lifts his head to look down.

“What, are you serious?” Jonas isn’t looking at him, his face is burning too red. “Joey, look at me. You... are you sure you’re ready?” He raises his gaze and Mitch’s amber eyes are glowing with want, but his jaw is set tight.

“Yeah,” he responds, just above a whisper as he rocks his hips back and down slightly. Mitch lets out a strangled groan and his thighs shake slightly, and Jonas is soaring. He rocks back with a little more vigor, and Mitch’s hips raise up to meet him. The rhythm they find makes him see stars. “Oh,” he gasps, “Yes, yes yes. I’m ready, I need it. I n-need you Mitch,” he whines.

“Shit, baby. This is a fuckin’ wet dream come true,” Mitch mumbles through gritted teeth. Abruptly, the taller boy bends at the waist to sit up and presses their lips together. Jonas is so caught up that he doesn’t even feel Mitch shift beneath him, bringing them to the edge of the bed. He nudges him off his lap, so Jonas has to plant his feet on the ground. As he stands in front of him, Mitch pulls back to peel his shirt and jeans off quickly and unceremoniously. It’s hasty, and not at all what he wanted. He wanted to slowly pull the shredded jeans from his gorgeous, muscled legs, kiss the skin beneath the hem of his shirt as he nudged it upward.

Before he can protest, Mitch’s mouth is kissing at him stomach, making his eyelids flutter shut. He’s kissing at his navel, then dropping to his hips, coming back up again. He feels a wet tongue dart out to trace along the light stretch marks which crisscross his skin. When he sinks lower to bite at the hem of his boxers peaking above his pants, Jonas’ knees nearly buckle. Sensing his weakness, Mitch quickly yanks his pants off and takes plentiful handfuls of his waist, holding him up momentarily. When Jonas is steady, Mitch leans back on his elbows, staring wide-eyed at his soulmate.

“Take your boxers off for me,” Mitch’s rough whisper is so needy, “please.” Something inside him wants to feel embarrassed, but Mitch has spent the last few weeks telling him- and showing him- how perfect and beautiful and mind-blowing he thinks he is. So he hooks his thumbs in the waistband and tugs them off slowly, flushing red as his hard-on springs from the fabric. Mitch groans, coming up to replace the hands on his waist, pulling him forward slightly to nose the dark curly hair around the base of his cock.

Unexpectedly, Mitch spins him around so he’s facing the opposite direction, staring at the yellowing wall. Just as he starts to question their position, a large hand comes from behind him to curl around his cock and pump it slowly. He yelps as big teeth sink into the flesh of his ass, not enough to hurt, but enough to leave marks. When he feels Mitch’s tongue licking at his balls from behind his vision goes white. Unconsciously he leans forward at the waist. The warm, wet tongue lavishes his sac gently before moving back, licking slowly along his perineum.

His knees buckle as Mitch buries his sharp face between his ass cheeks, tonguing against the pink ring of muscle. Before he can completely collapse, Mitch’s other arm wraps around his middle and holds him up as the assault on his ass continues, leaving him quaking and gasping out sobs of his soulmate’s name. Mitch’s fist doesn’t let up either, milking his dick greedily with quick strokes, and he’s getting _so close_. He doesn’t want to cum now, he tells himself, he wants to cum when Mitch is inside him. He wants to cum when Mitch is on top of him with those clouded amber eyes and sweat glistening on his brow.

His hands fly back against Mitch’s head, to push it away, he tells himself. But he ends up winding his fingers through his hair and pulling him in closer. The muffled groan from Mitch makes his thighs shake as the big fist and wet tongue continue to bring him to the edge, pumping, twisting, licking, prodding. His moans and cries get louder, and Mitch’s arm tightens around his middle. He feels Mitch open him up with his tongue, trying desperately to get inside him, and it’s so good. It’s way too good. It has Jonas bending over further at the waist. He opens his tear-clouded eyes and looks down, watching Mitch’s cock flex through his orange underwear. It looks so big, even covered by the fabric. He wonders if it’ll hurt a little inside him.

He kinda _wants_ it to hurt a little.

The thought is too much and his fingers pull desperately on Mitch’s hair as he cums. His thighs quake and his knees finally do give out completely, but Mitch keeps him up with one arm and milks the cum from him with the other. Ropes of thick liquid spurt onto the carpet as he whimpers Mitch’s name again and again. Mitch is drinking it up, not stopping his pumping hand until Jonas has to bat it away.

Once he catches his breath enough, he quickly brings his hands to his face to wipe away the overwhelmed tears before his soulmate can see them. Mitch’s arm slowly lets him go, and he takes the opportunity to sink to the carpet, giving his tired thighs a rest. He shudders as Mitch licks the bit of cum that he caught in his fingers, and brings a shaky hand to the hem of Mitch’s boxers to pull at them. He complies, lifting his hips to allow Jonas to tug them off. His heavy cock looks painfully hard, and Jonas wraps his fingers around the base. He swallows as he realizes how thick it is, nerves pricking in his stomach at the thought of having it inside him. He gnaws on his bottom lip, suddenly feeling nervous after coming down from his orgasm high.

The feeling doesn’t last long before Mitch reaches his big hands down, cradling his face so gently he like he’s made of gold. He’s looking at him like he’s priceless, too. A small smile sneaks its way to his lips as he strokes Mitch’s length slowly, then gets up onto his knees. Just as he’s ready to take him into his mouth, hands push gently against his face. He looks up in confusion.

“C’mere,” his soulmate says, hands leaving his freckled cheeks to drop to his shoulders and tug up.

"B-but, I wanna... y'know. Do you not want..." He starts to protest softly, his voice trailing off as Mitch shakes his head vigorously.

"No, no, no, I do! Believe me, I want it. But, uh, I don't- don't think I'll be able to last s'long is ya do," Mitch finishes in a mumble. Jonas feels a little pride swell in his chest. He stands and Mitch’s hands slide down him as he does, until they’re tugging gently at the back of his freckled thighs. They part as he straddles Mitch, who’s sitting on the edge of the bed. He inhales sharply as his soft cock presses against one that seems achingly hard, and it comes out as a whimper when Mitch takes a rough handful of his ass while kissing his neck, sucking at his jaw, licking hot strips from his chin to his ear like an animal. His heart starts to thump heavily and his dick stirs between his thighs.

Mitch is gonna take him like an absolute animal. A small, embarrassing gasp leaves him as he hears the familiar sound of the cap popping off their trusty bottle of lube. The sound makes his heart sing because he knows what comes next.

And like clockwork, one long finger is back at his hole, slowly circling, begging to enter. He nods into Mitch’s shoulder, biting into the white skin as the finger enters slowly. Unconsciously, he moves back onto the digit, driving it a little deeper. It’s just like he always does, but Mitch never seems to be prepared, always groaning and kissing at his skin as his hand and Jonas’ hips find a euphoric rhythm. “Gonna add another,” his rough voice mumbles against his hair as the finger slides out slowly. Jonas shudders at the momentary emptiness.

The emptiness doesn’t last long. Almost instantly, two digits press into him slowly, making his eyes roll back in ecstasy. He’s finally feeling stretched, even if it is just a little, and he’s drunk on the feeling. He digs his nails into Mitch’s back, sobbing and whimpering into his neck pathetically as the fingers inside him curl slightly to rub gently along his prostate. He’s hard again, cock rubbing haphazardly against Mitch’s, leaking precum over their stomachs.

“One more,” he says, and it comes out barely above a whisper. He feels Mitch’s adam’s apple bob as he gulps and nods. The empty feeling it worse when the two digits disappear, and he almost yells at his soulmate. But all that comes out is the obscenest moan as three slowly and gingerly push in, only up the the first knuckle.

“That okay, baby?” Mitch whispers against his skin while pressing small kisses all over his face. He doesn’t move his fingers, just giving Jonas a moment to adjust, peppering more kisses along freckled skin and whispering praise into ears which burn red. “Fuck... so tight and so fuckin’ warm, you drive me crazy. You don’t even know what I wanna do to you, wanna-”

“Keep going,” he begs against Mitch’s neck, wiggling his ass just a little to prompt him. The fingers carefully press in further, freezing when a hiss leaves his mouth. Aggravated, he knits his brows together and moves his hips back. Mitch’s digits sink in further, little by little, until his rough palm is flush to Jonas’ skin.

Jonas is on a different planet. His vision is white and drool is slipping out of his mouth with each filthy noise that those long fingers elicit as they pick up speed and flex to rub against his prostate. They scissor slightly, just enough to make his head spin, and he cries out as he realizes he’s already too close to cumming a second time. Clumsily he brings a hand behind him to fumble for a second, trying to catch Mitch’s wrist as he fingerfucks him so well. When he does manage to wrap his hand around the thin wrist, the digits are immediately gone, leaving him feeling beyond hollow.

“That okay? Did it hurt too much? Do I need more lube?” Mitch bombards him with whispered, frantic questions while his clean hand flies from Jonas’ ass up to his face. Every time he tries to answer, Mitch throws another question his way.

“Y-yes! Gosh, don’t worry...” Jonas finally manages to assure him, releasing his wrist. “I just... need you.”

“Need me to what?” Mitch says dumbly, so honest that it hurts.

_“I need you,”_ he tries to emphasize, dragging out the words.

“To _what?”_ Mitch mimics his voice, but not maliciously. Jonas flushes as he realizes he’s gonna have to spell this out for him.

“I need you to-to-to,” he stutters as his face burns. With a brave breath he blurts out, “I need you to _fuck me_ , Mitch.”

The room is silent for a second as Mitch’s eyes widen.

“Shit, fuck, of course,” he breathes hastily. With a sudden movement he flips Jonas so his back is flat against the mattress, and he reaches over him onto the floor, near the leg of his bed. Mitch semi-stands, kneeling one leg on the mattress with his other foot planted on the carpet as he opens a box of condoms, tearing one off the strip with clumsy, slick hands. For a couple seconds Jonas watches him try to open the wrapper wildly, before he takes to ripping it open with his teeth and turning his head to spit the piece of foil out. Jonas whines as he watches Mitch’s trembling fingers unroll the condom over his cock, unconsciously parting his legs wider. Mitch searches for the lube bottle in the tangled blankets for a moment before pulling it out victoriously and squirting a generous amount onto his hand. He starts to stroke himself, spreading it along his dick as he tosses the bottle aside.

For good measure, he rubs the last remaining bit against Jonas’ ass, making him arch his back a little and mewl. Mitch wipes his hand against the once-clean sheet and slowly lowers himself until he’s hovering over Jonas, who can practically hear his soulmate’s heartbeat over the roaring in his ears. His legs fall open wider and Mitch slides between them, his bony knees pressed into the mattress. He leans down to kiss him passionately, but when he pulls back, Jonas can hear his breath waver as he exhales. He brings his hands to Mitch’s biceps, curling them around the muscle as much as he can.

“Are you nervous?” he asks quietly. Mitch looks stunned for a moment before his expression relaxes into a sheepish smile. 

“I... ‘course I am. I’ve been dreamin’ about this my whole damn life, I need it to be perfect for you, but I’m so-” Jonas cuts him off with a deep kiss, sucking his lower lip gently.

“It’s more than perfect. You’re amazing,” he assures in a mumble against Mitch’s lips, “and I want you, oh my god Mitch I need you. Right now. _Please.”_ Mitch lets out a pained groan at his begging and moves closer, taking position between his legs. He ducks his head to press his forehead into Jonas’. Mitch’s hips move down as well, only slightly, just enough to align the tip of his cock to Jonas’ wet hole.

“Baby... you tell me if you need me to stop, okay? You ready?” Jonas could practically headbutt Mitch because he’s been ready for 10 minutes. Instead of yelling like he wants to, he raises his hips slightly so Mitch’s tip is pressed firmly against his ass.

“God yes,” he whines, and the instant the affirmation has left his mouth, Mitch starts to push into him.

There’s no way he could’ve prepared himself for this, there’s never been enough fingers, Mitch’s tongue has never been enough to prepare him for how good it feels as his walls are stretched by Mitch’s thick cock. His vision is blurry, flashing between white and black as he arches his back at the sensation. It’s so invasive, and he was right, it does hurt just the slightest bit. But it’s the best kind of hurt he’s ever felt. He sinks his nails tightly into Mitch’s biceps as he lets out a long, loud moan. Mitch hesitates when he’s a couple inches in.

“That okay baby?” he whispers gently into his temple. Despite his sweet and tender words, Jonas could absolutely kill him. If Mitch stops one more time...

“More,” he begs, and then with more force, _“don’t stop.”_ Mitch shudders and groans, dropping one hand from Jonas’ hair to his thigh, to pull it open slightly and grab at the smooth flesh. His hips sink closer to Jonas, pushing more of his length into the tightness of his body. It’s agonizingly slow, and Jonas rolls his eyes back at the sensation. He can feel every inch of Mitch stretch him wider, push a little deeper, rub against the parts of him that have never been violated. He can’t stop the steady stream of whines, moans, and gasps which tumble from his lips. After what seems like forever, he feels Mitch’s hips nudge against his ass, his slightly unruly pubic hair pressing into Jonas’ sac, and he cries out.

Knowing that Mitch will immediately interpret it as pain, he brings his legs up to wrap around his bony hips, securing him tightly in place. He brings a hand to the back of Mitch’s neck, whimpering and kissing him greedily, taking in as much of him as he possibly can. He wants his tongue, his dick, his fingers inside him; he wants everything he can get. Delicately, Mitch pulls his hips back slightly, pulling a few thick inches out of the heat of his boyfriend’s ass. Jonas thinks he may have died and gone to heaven.

Just as he’s convinced nothing in the entire world can feel better than this, Mitch pushes back into him, and he can’t control the yell that leaves his mouth as his entire body is lit on fire.

“Is that-”

“God- yes- more- now-” He responds between gasps as he clenches uncontrollably around Mitch’s heavy cock, tightening his legs around his waist.

“Look at me,” Mitch murmurs, and Jonas cracks one eye open. Satisfied, Mitch starts to thrust slowly. He pushes gently in and out, before picking up his pace just slightly. Mitch studies his face intently, carefully reading him more closely than he's ever studied anything. Jonas feels hot. He’s burning as Mitch’s intense amber eyes stare into his own and his powerful hips pick up just a little more speed. With each thrust Jonas’ head moves back on the pillow and he hears the bedframe begin to creak.

He shuts his eyes again as Mitch dives in, kissing and biting at his hot neck, which is starting to sweat a little. He realizes, as he moves his hands to Mitch’s back, that they’re both starting to develop a thin layer of sweat. The thought of Mitch’s sweaty, dominant body has him seeing stars. He’s pulled out of his dream world by a strained, gruff moan against his ear.

“Fuck. _Fuck_ Joey. Do you know how good you feel? Goddamn, oh god- _fuck_ , you’re heaven,” Mitch growls into his ear, and the filthy words make his toes curl. He’s getting so, so close, drowning in the feeling of Mitch’s teeth on his neck, words in his ear, and the way Mitch changes the angle of his hips so he drags against Jonas’ prostate with every thrust. The cry he lets out has him biting his lip, because he’s made it obvious how close to cumming he is.

Mitch notices too. At that revelation, he loses a bit of control, Jonas can feel it, because his hips get a little rougher. The bedframe starts to protest, squeaking loudly and ramming against the wall as filthy noises of Mitch’s hips slapping against his ass fill the room. Mitch is getting more vocal too; strained grunts and moans slip out between his gritted teeth as his eyebrows knit together tightly. A violent shiver rocks Jonas’ body as he realizes Mitch is getting close too, and he starts to move his hips back against Mitch's cock, driving it deeper than he ever though possible.

“C-close, I’m so-”

“Shit,” Mitch hisses, “me too.” Jonas tosses his head back as Mitch raises off him a little to bring his hand off his freckled thigh to his leaking, bouncing dick. “That’s it baby, I want you to cum for me. Let go. C’mon, Joey, baby,” he goads as Jonas’ whines get more desperate and high pitched. When Mitch matches the rhythm of his thrusts to the quick pace of his strokes on Jonas’ cock, Jonas loses it. He screams Mitch’s name as he sinks his nails deeply into the flesh of his back, tossing his head from side to side and bucking his hips wildly. He cums so hard that each thick spurt lands on his chest, one even reaching his chin, making Mitch’s eyes go wide.

“Oh fuck,” he gasps as Jonas’ ass pulses around his length, “you’re gonna make me cum. Your tight fuckin’ ass, so good baby, gonna make me bust.” He pinches his eyes shut, obviously trying to hold off, babbling against Jonas’ neck. In the haze of his aftershocks, Jonas tightens his muscles around Mitch.

“Please, Mitch, f-for me. I wanna feel it,” the words sound a little awkward to him, but Mitch’s groan encourages him to press his lips against his ear and whisper in the sultriest voice he can muster, “I wanna feel you cum inside.” Mitch sinks his fingers tightly into Jonas’ thighs as he howls out a groan, the rhythm of his hips falling apart as his dick flexes wildly inside him, rocking with each wave of his orgasm. He wraps his arms and legs around Mitch, whose limbs can no longer support him as he falls into Jonas’ chest, and cradles him there as his hips continue to rock until he’s spent.

The sweat along his face is cooling and making him cold. His chest feels uncomfortable sticky with his drying cum. His legs are starting to protest from being thrown open for so long.

He’s the most comfortable he’s ever been, with Mitch’s slowing breath against his collarbone as he runs his fingers through his greasy hair. With a long, content sigh, Mitch nuzzles closer into his neck. For a few moments he lets his breathing return to normal before sitting up slightly, pulling his softening cock out of Jonas’ ass. Jonas shudders at the emptiness, reveling in how stretched and exhausted his muscles feel as he watches Mitch tie a knot in the condom and toss it across the room into the garbage can.

Well, it hits the side and falls _near_ the garbage can.

It’s also not a garbage can, it’s a cardboard box.

Jonas can’t help but giggle as Mitch dives back down to the bed with him, reaching his gangly arm out to yank a blanket over them, snuggling tightly back into the crook of his freckled neck. Jonas smiles as big, scary Mitch Mueller curls around him like a housecat, wrapping his large arms around his middle.

“Love you, Joey.” Mitch mumbles, pressing lazy kisses into his neck.

“I love you too,” he whispers in response. In the quiet of Mitch’s room, he feels something familiar glow in his chest. He pricks up as he feels Mitch’s hand absentmindedly raise to his own chest, stroking the skin with his knuckles.

The presence near his heart glows fiery and passionate. It feels energetic, deeply content, and it makes a feeling of pure joy radiate out into his whole body. Curiously, he looks up as the lights in the room brighten. His normal pink lights are drifting lazily around, like they always do when Mitch is around, but there’s new ones. Ones he’s never seen before. They glow in little flickers, looking almost like flames as the lick at the ceiling. Mitch raises his head too, gazing up at the show, and smiles goofily.

“I like these,” he praises.

“Me, too,” Jonas whispers as he stares at his soulmate, watching the orange light dancing on the ceiling reflect off his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> & they lived happily ever after! Thanks y'all, your support means so much to me I can't even explain!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks a BILLION for reading, it means the world to me!!! New chapters should be coming out every couple of days!


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